I Hope You're There Waiting (At The End)
by NewtPevensie
Summary: Starts 5x05. The Disir tell Arthur to allow magic back into Camelot. What if Merlin chooses differently? Would the ending be different? Or just the journey? T for mild violence and possible language.
1. The Disir

Merlin always knew that Arthur's brashness would get them into trouble. He just didn't think that the end of Camelot would begin with an argument with the High Court of the Old Religion.

'Embrace the ways of the Old Religion, Arthur. Or risk the ire of the Goddess.' The three voices of the Disir were so similar that it was difficult to tell which judge was speaking.

'I refuse to be judged by those who do not know me.' Arthur's voice rang through the cavern, proud and defiant.

'You have always been known, Arthur Pendragon. And now you come here, to the very heart of the Old Religion, trampling hallowed relics, treating our sacred space like you do your kingdom, with arrogance, with conceit, with insolence.' The Disir hissed their disapproval, every word coming closer to their final judgment.

'Enough!' Gwaine cried. Merlin winced, aware of how the Disir would react to such disrespect but unsure how to stop him. 'You speak of the King!'

The lead Disir merely moved her head, throwing Gwaine back against the wall of the cavern. All the knights drew their swords, ready to fight their way out. But the knights could not defend themselves from the Disir's attack. A spear flew through the air, despite no one having thrown it. Only Merlin heard the slight shimmering sound of magic as the spear hurtled towards Arthur. Merlin tried to stop it, but it was too late. The spearhead hit flesh with a sickening squelch, and the knight hit the floor, barely retaining consciousness.

Mordred had done what Merlin could not. He had saved their king by throwing his body between the spear and Arthur.

'_Merlin_!' Arthur yelled, his distress clear in the shaking of his voice. Merlin ran to the fallen knight, even as Arthur ordered his men to fall back. They retreated from the cavern, Merlin at the rear, until he sensed a shimmer in the air. This time he was prepared. He deflected the spear aimed at him with his magic without even seeing it, causing it to fall, inert, beside him. He turned to see the Disir at the front straighten, her hood falling back just enough that Merlin could see her face. There he saw something change in her expression: formerly merely angry, now it showed something akin to curiosity.

_Who are you, boy, that you serve the king, despite your magical talents?_ She spoke in his mind, like Mordred sometimes did.

_I am Emrys_, he thought back. _I will protect Arthur until my last breath._

He turned to leave, and as he reached the mouth of the cave, he heard a sigh like the rustle of fallen leaves.

_Emrys_.

* * *

When they returned to Camelot, Merlin watched in silence as Arthur fretted over Mordred as if he were his own brother while Gaius examined him. The physician met Merlin's eyes from across the room, shaking his head minutely so that Arthur didn't notice. Merlin didn't react, remaining stony-faced until Arthur left.

'Only your magic can save him,' Gaius said, gesturing at Mordred's unconscious body.

Merlin remained perched by the window. 'I cannot save the life of a man destined to kill Arthur.'

'If Mordred is destined to take the king's life, why has he just saved it?'

Merlin hated how reasonable Gaius sounded. He knew that outwardly, Mordred had done nothing to arouse suspicion since coming back to Camelot – in fact, he had been as honourable as Sir Leon, if a bit naïve. But he couldn't ignore Kilgarrah: every time he had, things had gotten worse, until he did whatever the dragon had told him in the first place. When he told Gaius as much, the latter leaned back, crossing his arms.

'What happened to the young boy who came into my chambers just a few years ago?' His voice had taken on the disapproving tone reserved for when Merlin was being stubborn or reckless (usually both).

Merlin's expression hardened. 'He grew up,' he said shortly, 'and he learned the meaning of duty.'

If the choice was between Arthur and Mordred, he couldn't risk saving someone who posed a threat to the future Arthur was destined to bring about. Even if that someone was only a boy.

A boy who had sacrificed himself for that same future.

* * *

Then Arthur ordered Merlin to ready the horses so that they could return to the cave, to beg the Disir for mercy. Much of the journey was made in silence, each turning their own worries over in their minds again and again. Merlin cursed Arthur for his recklessness, and was convinced that in doing the thing Arthur thought was honourable, he would inevitably bring Camelot crashing to the ground. But at the same time, he couldn't shake Gaius's voice: if Mordred was really to bring about Arthur's death, why had he just saved his life?

When they arrived, Arthur laid down his sword in a patch of clover. When he noticed Merlin's raised eyebrows, he rolled his eyes. 'I'm not totally insensitive, Merlin.'

Before Merlin could think of a good answer, Arthur was already moving towards the dark opening of the cave. This time, as they traversed the rock passages towards the cavern, Arthur took care to avoid touching any of the wooden charms hung from the ceiling, some of which had been newly rehung after their last visit. Merlin absently wondered whether the Disir did it themselves, balancing on a large rock, or whether they used magic.

'Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, we have been expecting you.' The voices of the Disir broke the silence of the cave.

Arthur knelt. The image of the young king, gold and silver in the darkness, kneeling humbly before the ancient priestesses, was a stark contrast to the last time they had come, when he had been the very portrait of arrogance and offended honour. 'My men and I behaved with arrogance and stupidity. We dishonoured this place and insulted your faith. I humbly beg your forgiveness.' He paused, then continued, his voice thick with emotion. 'Sir Mordred may yet pay the ultimate price.' His throat bobbed. 'I come here to petition you for his life.'

'Why should we help you?'

'I ask not for myself, but for a young man whose only crime was to sacrifice himself for his king.'

'The future holds much suffering for you, Arthur Pendragon – for you and your people,' the Disir warned. Merlin tensed, sensing that the final judgment was coming. 'If you wish to save your kingdom, embrace the Old Religion. Learn her ways. Bow to the Goddess.'

Arthur looked away. Even standing behind him, Merlin could read the tension in his shoulders, the worry in the tilt of his head. 'You know I can't do that.'

'Consider carefully,' the judges hissed. 'You have until tomorrow.'

* * *

Merlin was searching for more firewood when Arthur's voice reached him.

'How did you know this place was sacred?'

Merlin was taken by surprise. 'That's obvious.'

'Pretend it isn't,' Arthur said, serious for once.

Merlin looked around him in the darkness, trying to find the words to explain it. 'Everything here… it's so full of life. Every tree, every leaf, every insect.' Arthur sat up to see him properly, probably wondering why he sounded so reverent, but Merlin barely noticed – he was too entranced by the music of the valley. 'It's as if everything is vibrating… as if everything is much more than itself.' That was it. The strange feeling of life about to burst from every root and branch and flower, that everything was interlinked, that there was a web of pure _existence_ in this sacred place.

'You feel all that?' Arthur sounded sceptical.

Merlin met his gaze. 'Don't you?'

Arthur shook his head.

'You're missing out.'

The pair were silent as Merlin sat on his bedroll, across the little campsite from his king. 'What will you do?'

Arthur stared pensively in the direction of the cave. 'I don't know. My heart says do anything I can to save Mordred, but I've seen what misery unfettered sorcery brings. Before my father outlawed magic, Camelot was almost destroyed by sorcery. In my own time, Morgana has used it for nothing but evil.' He brought his gaze back to meet Merlin's. 'What would you do? In my place?'

A shiver went down Merlin's spine. 'Me? I'm just a servant, a lackey.'

'Lackeys can be wise.'

Merlin barely heard him. What could he say? Yes, Arthur, bring magic back so Mordred can be healed. No, Arthur, you can't bring magic back, so your friend must die. Neither of those were right, yet they seemed to be the only options.

Merlin's thoughts were interrupted when Arthur spoke again. 'It's not like you to be silent.'

'Kingdom's future is at stake.' _More so than you know._

'And a man's life.' Merlin's eyes flicked up to look at Arthur. The other boy was watching him intently. Merlin couldn't bear to think of him as a man; he was still too young, despite being tried and tested over and over again. In his mind, Arthur was still the boy he had met in the streets of Camelot just after he had arrived, the boy who was arrogant and brave and trying desperately to do the right thing.

Merlin thought carefully before he spoke, giving neither answer nor advice, merely trying to help his friend to choose himself. He would do anything for Arthur – anything except choose for him. 'You must protect Camelot. You must protect the world you've spent your life building – a just and fair kingdom for all.'

'You'd have me sacrifice a friend,' Arthur said flatly.

Merlin shook his head slowly. 'I would have you become the king you are destined to be.'

Arthur leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees to peer at Merlin through the smoke of the flames between them. 'If I do save Mordred, all my father's work will be for nothing. Sorcery will reign once more in Camelot. Is that what you'd want?' Arthur stopped. 'Perhaps my father was wrong. Perhaps the old ways aren't as evil as we thought. So, what should we do? Accept magic? Or let Mordred die?'

There was a pricking behind Merlin's eyes. Suddenly close to tears, he looked away, trying to clear them.

But Arthur noticed. 'What is it?' he asked, eyes narrowing. 'If it's about Mordred dying, Merlin, we've had this conversation before – no man –'

'Is worth my tears, I know,' Merlin finished for him. 'It isn't that.'

'Then what is it?' Arthur asked again, his tone veering quickly towards exasperation.

Merlin swallowed down his terror, drilled into him by Gaius and his mother – those who had always told him that telling anyone else would mean his death. This was _Arthur_. Arthur, whom he trusted more than anyone. Arthur, his best friend, even if neither of them would admit it. It was safer to tell Arthur than virtually anybody else, even if he was the only who could actually pass a death sentence.

'I have magic.' The words hung between like a pall, chilling the air despite the fire.

Arthur looked at him askance. 'Don't be ridiculous, Merlin. Why would you say that?'

Merlin was shaking. 'I do. I'm a sorcerer.' His voice cracked on the last word.

Arthur shook his head, though at what, Merlin wasn't sure. 'You're not a sorcerer. I would know.' Merlin loved him for that last sentence alone, for the certainty that Arthur knew him, trusted him.

For Arthur, he would do anything. Even put his own life in his hands.

'Arthur… look.' He held his hand out towards the fire, and, eyes glowing, willed the sparks to form the Pendragon crest: a sitting dragon, wings extended, breathing fire. He heard Arthur's sharp intake of breath, but didn't dare look at him until the image faded.

'I use it to protect you. To defend Camelot.' The words were hard to get out, but they were important. Arthur had to know, had to understand. 'Only for you.'

Arthur was still staring at the flames, pale as a sheet. Emotions flashed across his face – fear, anger, dismay, surprise, anger again – until he wiped all expression from his face and stood up.

'Stay here,' he ordered tonelessly, not turning around.

Merlin's stomach dropped. 'Arthur…'

'Just… you heard.' With that, he stalked out of the clearing, away from the fire, away from the light – away from Merlin.

Merlin waited for Arthur's return for hours, sitting on his bedroll, watching the fire burn down to embers. He stoked the fire again, and waited for another hour, then gave up. He curled up under the blanket, shivering. He was used to camping, to sleeping rough, but it was always with Arthur by his side. Would this be the new normal? Arthur unwilling to be around him, always wary – and that was if he let him live. The idea scared him more than actually telling Arthur he had magic.

When he finally fell asleep, it was with wet cheeks that glistened in the flickering light of the fire.

* * *

The next morning, Arthur had returned. He barely spoke to Merlin, unless it was to snap an order. Every time he looked at him, a flash of anger crossed his face, building up the feeling of lead in Merlin's stomach. They packed up the campsite in silence, each moment tenser than the last.

They reached the cave sooner than Merlin had expected; or maybe it was that every minute seemed both longer and shorter than normal. Arthur drew his sword and stabbed it into the ground before entering the cave. Like last time, he was careful not to touch any of the hanging charms. His expression was closed, unrevealing. Merlin, for once, had no idea what Arthur was thinking; no idea what was about to happen, either to him or to Camelot.

Once again, Arthur stopped before the Disir, Merlin just behind him.

'You have returned. Is your decision made?' The eerie voices were louder than before, unless that was merely Merlin's imagination – everything seemed louder, from his footsteps to his heartbeat, thumping painfully in his chest.

'It is,' Arthur replied solemnly. 'I cannot do as you ask.'

Merlin felt his stomach drop.

'At least, not entirely. I cannot "embrace the Old Religion," as you put it. I cannot worship as you do. I do not know how, and besides, I have my own faith. But I will allow magic back into Camelot. Sorcerers will no longer be persecuted, unless they are shown to have actively caused harm to my people. Those who wish to may return to the old ways. Would that suffice?'

Merlin's vision had gone hazy. He had to brace himself against the wall of the cavern to stop himself from falling over. He didn't understand what was happening. This was too much in too short a time. Did he hear right? Did Arthur know what he had offered? Was he going to let him live? Could he stay in Camelot?

Then another voice sounded in his head, equally off-guard. _You appear to have changed him_.

_I did nothing,_ he thought back.

_You did more than you know. _

'It is not what we asked,' the Disir hissed. Merlin looked up, stricken: Arthur would not – could not – offer more. Not with Camelot in its present state. 'It is not what the Goddess requires. But… it will suffice. We will permit you to do as you have promised.'

Merlin let go of the wall, trying to steady himself. He wished he could see Arthur's face – even the slightest bit of emotion would give him insight into what he was thinking, but from here, all he could see was the stiffness of his shoulders.

The Disir were still speaking. 'However, as a show of your goodwill, we require that you keep a sorcerer by your side. To ensure that you keep your promise.'

'Who?' Arthur's voice was terse.

Merlin shifted, moving round to see his friend still staring, stony-faced, at the three priestesses, who simultaneously raised their arms and pointed at Merlin.

'Him.'

Merlin froze, but had already move enough to see the muscle working in Arthur's jaw, the way it did when he was trying to clamp down on too many emotions at once.

'Fine.'

The warlock's eyes widened. He had expected some sort of resistance, but if Arthur accepted, he wasn't going to complain – especially if it meant he didn't have to leave Camelot.

'You have made your decision: sealed your fate, and that of your kingdom. Farewell, Arthur Pendragon.'

Arthur bowed stiffly, then left the cavern. As he did so, however, he met Merlin's gaze, just for a second. His face was blank, unreadable. When Merlin followed him out into the sunlight, hopefully leaving the cave for the last time he somehow felt worse than he did when he entered.

Arthur had accepted magic, had even allowed him to stay. Wasn't that enough?

_No_, the treacherous voice inside him whispered. _Not if he doesn't trust you because of it. _

* * *

The ride home was quiet, Arthur riding ahead, flinching imperceptibly whenever Merlin came too close. Each time it happened, it felt like a tiny shard of ice was being thrown at Merlin's heart. He would be glad when they got to Camelot, when things could start returning to normal. Arthur only spoke to him to give him orders, and even those were rare. They had travelled together so often that Merlin did most things automatically, without Arthur's instruction.

When they rode into the castle, Arthur swung himself off his horse almost before it had stopped. He passed the reins to a stable hand and went to speak to one of the knights milling around. But before he got the answer to whatever question he'd asked, his face lit up and he was off, weaving his way towards the stairs leading into the castle. Merlin turned, trying to see what had unlocked the tight clamp Arthur had kept on his emotions for the last few days. A chill passed over him.

Mordred was bounding down the stairs, a smile on his face, as excited as a puppy to see his king again. He looked well – not just healed from his wound, but really _well_, bright and energetic and ready for anything. He reached Arthur, who grinned in delight and crushed him in a bearhug. Only Merlin knew to look for the quick glance he spared to the skies, thanking every deity he could imagine for bringing his friend back from the brink of death.

How could he have forgotten why they went to the Disir in the first place? After he'd told Arthur his secret, dealing with the fallout had become the disaster-that-must-be-averted, not the risk of Mordred killing Arthur.

And now, with magic permitted back into Camelot, Merlin had simply handed another weapon to the druid boy.

Merlin glared at the ground, trying to contain his fear. When he looked up again, Arthur was gone.

* * *

Merlin searched for his friend of hours, but to no avail. Despite knowing every inch of the castle, Arthur was nowhere to be found. Either he was moving around, not giving Merlin a chance to find him, or he wasn't in the castle at all. Both were possible, and if he didn't want to be found, Merlin knew he should give him space – even if that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Instead, Merlin returned to Gaius's chambers, where he found the physician poring over his books, as usual. For a second, Merlin was struck by how little had changed around the castle, despite his whole world having shifted on its axis.

'Merlin, what is it?' Gaius hadn't looked up from his book, but had apparently sensed Merlin's presence. He supposed it wasn't too hard: most people who came to see Gaius wouldn't just stand silently in the doorway.

'Arthur knows,' he blurted out. He crossed the room and sat on the ledge by the window, hugging one knee to him as the other leg swung free.

Gaius looked up. 'Knows what?'

'About my magic.' The look of shock on Gaius's face would almost have made him laugh if he hadn't felt so awful, his insides twisted into a tangled mess, a fog of worry and misery clouding his mind.

The physician's gaze flicked to the door, as though nervous someone might pass by and hear their conversation. Merlin simply waved his hand and the door closed on its own.

Now Gaius was frowning. 'Merlin, I've told you before –'

Merlin smiled bitterly. 'It doesn't matter anymore. Arthur agreed to allow magic back into Camelot. All he needs to do now is to announce it.'

Gaius gaped at him. When it became clear that he wasn't going to say anything else, Merlin launched into the tale of the last few days, telling him about the choice the Disir gave Arthur, and when he asked Merlin's opinion, he had told him he had magic. When the story came to a close, Merlin let his head droop into his hands.

'I just don't know what to do… Since I told him, Arthur's barely spoken to me. He's avoiding me, I know it. He allowed magic back into Camelot, but I don't know why. I just… what do I do?' He raised his head to look at Gaius, hoping for an answer.

The latter grimaced, aware that his response wouldn't be the one his protégé wanted. 'You need to give him time, Merlin. He will come to terms with it, or he won't. But either way, you cannot force him to speak to you. It must have been a big shock to him – he'll need time to recover, to change his worldview. Suddenly discovering magic isn't the evil Uther taught him it was will take time to sink in.'

Merlin shook his head slowly, as though trying to deny Gaius's advice. 'It's not just the magic. When I showed him, his face… it was like he was scared of me. He's my best friend,' he whispered. 'I can't lose him.'

Gaius joined him at the window, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. 'I know, Merlin. I know.'

* * *

Merlin was on his way to Arthur's chambers for his normal duties when he saw Mordred at the other end of the corridor. Before today, he would have ducked back around the corner and taken another route to Arthur's rooms, but now he felt he had to speak to the young knight. Mordred seemed preoccupied when Merlin reached him, gazing out of the window, unaware that Merlin stood at his shoulder.

'I need to talk to you,' Merlin said abruptly. Mordred started – whether from his thoughts being suddenly disturbed, or from Merlin speaking to him directly at all, Merlin didn't know. Either way, Mordred nodded and followed Merlin to an empty room.

'Arthur went back to the Disir to beg for your life,' he began. He wasn't sure why he had started there; he just knew it was important for Mordred to know how far their king was willing to go for his friends. 'But to lift the infection, he had to allow magic back into Camelot. He asked me what I would do… and I told him I had magic. Then he agreed to make magic lawful again.'

Mordred's shock was identical to Gaius's. 'After everything you've done for him, you just took that risk without thinking? He needs you, Merlin. You shouldn't have risked yourself like that.'

Merlin's tone hardened. 'That's exactly why I had to do it. He had to see that magic wasn't all bad. That it could be used for good.'

Mordred's eyebrows rose. 'It apparently worked.'

'I'm not so sure.' At the knight's questioning look, Merlin continued: 'He hasn't spoken to me since I told him.'

Mordred simply watched him, trying to read his face. 'Thank you,' he said finally.

Merlin frowned. 'For what?'

'For taking that risk. For playing your part in bringing me back – and magic back to the kingdom.'

Merlin had turned to the door, about to leave, but he froze. Then, very quietly, he said, 'I didn't think this would happen.'

'What?' Mordred's voice was sharp. When Merlin was silent, he asked again: 'What do you mean, Merlin.'

'There's a prophecy,' the latter said flatly, 'that says you will kill Arthur Pendragon.' He turned back, catching the expression of horror that flitted across the young knight's face.

'_Me_? Kill _Arthur_? That's ridiculous – I would never – he's my _king_ – my brother – I won't…' Mordred's words faded away in the silence of the small room as his thoughts raced. Then realisation dawned. 'Is this why you've barely spoken to me since I returned to Camelot? Why you don't trust me?' Mordred had gone pale.

Merlin nodded minutely. Mordred looked sick.

The two men stared at each other in silence, each seeing the younger boy that they had met all those years ago, when one had saved the other's life.

Finally, Mordred broke the silence. 'You have to believe me, Merlin. I would never kill Arthur. I love him, just like you.'

Merlin kept staring at the other boy, Arthur's words buzzing in his mind. _Where would any of us be, if no one had given us a chance? _Then the events at the Disir's cave: Mordred throwing himself in front of the spear meant for Arthur before Merlin could do anything. Mordred was prepared to give his life for Arthur – surely that must be worth something?

'I believe you.' The words came out almost before he was aware of them. Mordred sagged in relief, a hand against the wall to steady himself. 'But you need to tell Arthur that you have magic, too.'

If it were possible, Mordred grew paler. 'Are you sure?' The tremor in his voice was unmistakeable. Merlin could sympathise – if Arthur reacted this badly having known Merlin for years, winning him over to Mordred's side would be even harder.

'He has a right to know. You don't have to tell him yet – maybe wait until he accepts my magic, and makes the official announcement. Then you shouldn't have anything to fear. If you want,' he offered, 'I could come with you when you tell him. If he trusts me again, that might make it easier.'

Mordred acquiesced. As the shock of the last few minutes faded, his sense of humour – which even Merlin had to admit was infectious – returned. He smiled, not as easily as usual, but still exuding mischief. 'And hey – with both of us together, Morgana doesn't stand a chance.'

And for the first time in almost a week, Merlin smiled properly. He held out his hand for Mordred to shake. 'That she doesn't.'

* * *

For the rest of the day, Merlin wandered aimlessly around the castle. He kept returning to Arthur's chambers whenever he would normally have duties, but each time found it empty. Instead, he roamed the halls, trying to find things to keep himself busy; to keep his mind off Arthur.

Gaius sent him on a few errands, understanding his unspoken need to be useful. But when they were done, he was back to wandering the castle. He visited old nooks he hadn't seen in years: a forgotten room in the west wing; a quiet passage behind a tapestry; inside the roof of the tallest tower. In the last one, he noticed a small square letting in light through the ceiling. He looked around warily, though he knew he didn't have to, then focused. He felt himself floating upwards, and as he neared the ceiling, he pushed the trapdoor open and climbed out.

He sat on the roof, higher than the guard stations, and looked out over the kingdom. It was all so peaceful from up here – Merlin could almost forget the roiling in his stomach at the thought of the next time he would speak to Arthur. Almost.

He didn't know how long he sat there, listening to the faraway sounds of the town and castle, watching birds wheeling in the sky. But when the sky began to darken, the colours changing from blue and white to gold and orange, he made his way back inside, closing the trapdoor behind him.

He traipsed back to Arthur's chambers, expecting another disappointment, but when he knocked, a voice called, 'Yes?'

Merlin slipped inside, his stomach in knots. He cleared his throat. 'It's me, sire.'

Arthur was at his desk, writing with his favourite quill. He hadn't looked up when Merlin came in, but the stiff line of his neck told Merlin that that had been on purpose. He'd known he would come, and had let him in anyway. Merlin tried not to hope that this was the beginning of Arthur accepting his secret.

Arthur waved a few pieces of parchment. 'Take these and make copies. I need lots of them. And quickly.'

Merlin nodded, even though Arthur still wouldn't look at him. Crossing the room, he took the sheaf of notes, careful not to brush Arthur's fingers as he did so.

Slowly. They were going to have to move slowly.

He cleared his throat again once he was slightly further away from the desk. 'Sire, you have a feast tonight, in honour of Sir Mordred's recovery.'

'I know, Merlin, I ordered it,' Arthur snapped. Merlin could barely stop himself from rolling his eyes – if he didn't remind him, Arthur would almost always forget, but if he did, he would pretend to have known all about it. Besides, when he was working, Arthur often got distracted, completely disregarding the time until either Merlin or Gwen said something.

Merlin placed the papers on a table by the door and headed for the wardrobe, selecting with a practiced eye what would be appropriate for the king to wear. He threw the shirt and fresh trousers over the changing screen so Arthur could find them easily, removed a new cape from a drawer, found his simplest crown – the one he wore at relatively informal formal occasions – then dug out his 'special occasion' boots, which were basically the only ones which had never been worn while riding or fighting, and therefore were the smartest.

With a sigh, Arthur threw down his quill and went behind the changing screen. Merlin pulled a cloth out of his pocket to give the boots a quick buff while the king changed. The fact that he hadn't been sent off already was a good sign, but he didn't want to push it. He would stay quiet until Arthur outright asked him for help, rather than helping without invitation. That way, Arthur would get to set the pace of their recovery.

'Why didn't you tell me?'

Arthur's blunt question threw Merlin off guard. He dropped the cloth he had been using, and scrambled for an answer as he picked it up.

'You're a useless servant, Merlin, as you well know, but I have never met anyone more loyal. You having magic does explain a lot, but that isn't the problem here. The problem is that you didn't tell me. How can I trust someone if they won't tell me the truth?' All this came out in a rush, as if Arthur had been bottling it up for days.

Merlin chewed his lip. 'I wanted to, but…' he trailed off, unsure how to phrase his answer.

'What?'

'You'd have chopped my head off.' Merlin inwardly winced at how curtly that had come out.

Arthur's voice was quieter now. 'I'm not sure what I'd have done.'

Merlin spoke gently. 'And I didn't want to put you in that position.'

Arthur came out from behind the screen, his hair mussed from pulling his shirt on. For the first time, he sounded uncertain. 'That's what worried you?'

Merlin met his eyes, willing him to see his sincerity. 'You would have had to choose between disobeying your father or killing your friend. You deserved to find out when you could make your choice freely – admittedly, the Disir didn't give you much choice, but I wouldn't change that you found out. If you are to become the king you are destined to be, you had to make that choice yourself.'

'What about you?' Arthur's piercing blue gaze had sharpened. 'What's your destiny?'

'I was born to serve you, Arthur. And I'm proud of that.'

Arthur stared at him for a moment, then nodded sharply, clearing his throat and fiddling with his cape. 'Those papers. Copies.'

Merlin bowed. 'Yes, sire.' He left the room, picking up the parchment as he did. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

He turned the corner, and his curiosity was piqued as he remembered the look of concentration on Arthur's face when he walked in. What exactly was he making copies of?

He scanned the sheet on top. It was covered in Arthur's bold writing, half of it scored out, even a few tears where he had pressed too hard with the quill. But when Merlin realised what he had been writing, he understood where the frustration had come from.

It was the announcement that magic was to be allowed back into Camelot.

Merlin smiled to himself. Perhaps this journey wouldn't be as hard as he expected.

* * *

**Hi guys!**

**I've had this idea forever, but only just got round to writing it properly. We're in for the long haul on this one, based on the episodes of Merlin Season 5. Hope you enjoyed! If you did, leave a review - I love reading them! If you didn't, feel free to leave a review anyway - I always want to improve.**

**Love,**

**NewtPevensie xoxoxox**


	2. The Dark Tower

_Citizens of Camelot_

_By Order of King Arthur, magic is hereby legalised. Sorcery may be used within the borders of the kingdom of Camelot with no penalty if the use of magic is discovered. It may be used to strengthen crops, to protect your families, for healing, or any other benign purpose._

_If magic be used to bring harm down upon another citizen, however, such actions will be punished in accordance with the laws of the land, magic to take the place of any other weapon._

_Long live the King!_

The signs were posted at each entrance to Camelot, inside and out, and on the gates to the castle. Within hours, the news was spreading to the villages close to the capital, and would soon reach the outer villages. The monarchs of bordering kingdoms would know of Arthur's decision soon, which would surely lead to a frenzy of questions, but Merlin had bigger problems right now.

'Where is she?'

Arthur sounded as though the ground had just fallen out from under him. Elyan and Gwaine were silent, avoiding their king's stare, neither wanting to break the news to him. Finally, Elyan spoke.

'I told her to run.'

Arthur said nothing, turning on his heel and leaving the room. Merlin exchanged a pleading glance with Gaius, then followed. He caught sight of him about to turn the corner at the end of the hall.

'Arthur!' he called, trying to get his attention, to calm him down, to reassure him, _anything_.

The king turned, the blank look in his eyes replaced with a fierce determination.

'We ride at dawn.'

When he wanted to, Arthur moved fast, so by the time Merlin caught up with him in his chambers, he was packing.

'Gaius says Leon and Percival will recover quickly,' he said. Then he paused, unwilling to go on. 'But he thinks… there were signs of magic. He thinks Morgana may be involved.'

Arthur continued packing, folding a shirt meticulously, which Merlin found strange, partly because he didn't think Arthur had folded a shirt in his life. Then, so quietly Merlin wasn't sure if he had heard him, he said, 'You can go, Merlin.'

Merlin's heart sank. He knew this would happen: that everything would be fine for a few weeks, but Morgana would take advantage of the new tolerance of magic. Of course Arthur was regretting permitting sorcery back into Camelot if the first victim of his decision was his own queen.

'Arthur…'

'I lost Guinevere once before.' He sounded so small, so vulnerable, the months of heartbreak after he sent her away all coming back, but this time it wasn't his decision. It wasn't something he could reverse himself.

'You're not going to lose her. You're not. We're going to find her, I swear.' Merlin crossed the room and offered Arthur his arm. He clasped it, for once accepting Merlin's support without a sarcastic remark.

'We'll bring her home.'

* * *

They rode for the best part of a day before they lost the trail. The sun had set, and the last of the light was disappearing. Once Merlin managed to convince Arthur to stop for the night, since they would find Gwen faster if they slept well, they settled in for the night, only to be woken in the early hours by Leon's screams.

Elyan shook him awake as Gwaine did the same for Percival, who was thrashing around, close to hitting his head against a tree root. When Leon was conscious, his breathing slower, he described what he'd seen.

'The tower. Everything in its shadow was dead.'

Then Percival interjected, 'And the rain was like blood. All across a deserted plain.'

'A black pillar of stone.' Leon's eyes widened as he realised they were describing the same place.

'The Dark Tower.' Everyone turned to Arthur. 'It's a place every young knight is taught to fear, and rightly so.' His expression darkened further. 'Why would you both have that same dream?'

Merlin spoke up. 'Poison could still be coursing through their veins. Gaius said it was enchanted – that could explain it. She planted those visions. She's trying to lure you into a trap.' There was no doubting the 'she' to whom he was referring. The shadows suddenly felt darker, thicker, as though Morgana had spies hiding everywhere, and they had closed in now she was mentioned.

Arthur's shoulders tensed. 'The tower. That's where she's taking Guinevere.'

Merlin nodded. There wasn't anything he could say to reassure his friend right now. All they could do was wait for the morning.

The next day, Arthur announced his intention to journey to the Dark Tower alone. One by one, Elyan, Percival, Leon and Gwaine all refused to leave him, Gwaine in his usual dramatic fashion – as if he had never saved a damsel in distress before. Then Arthur turned to him.

'You can turn back, Merlin.' Merlin didn't want to notice the slightly hopeful turn to Arthur's voice. The only thing making him feel slightly better was that he couldn't tell whether Arthur hoped he would leave, or if he wanted him to stay.

'I made you a promise, remember?'

Arthur simply bowed his head in thanks, then moved on to keep packing up the campsite. Merlin rolled up his blanket. Did he imagine it, or did Arthur look just a little pleased at Merlin's decision?

Several hours later, they reached the edge of the Impenetrable Forest, which, true to its name, proved to be exceedingly difficult to get through. After half an hour of ineffectual hacking at vines and getting tangled in roots, Merlin had an idea. Moving to Arthur's side, he whispered in his ear. Arthur drew back slightly, raising his eyebrows in question.

'I'm sure,' Merlin said.

Arthur stared at him for a few seconds, then called to the others. 'On me!'

The knights gave up on their fight with the branches and joined their king, looking for him to lead. Instead, Merlin took charge.

'Form a line. Stay close to each other – hold hands if you have to. And prepare yourselves: I have something I need to show you.'

He took a deep breath and concentrated. His eyes glowed gold, and at his unspoked command, a series of vines drew apart slightly, enough for a man to pass through – even Percival, if he ducked.

One part of his mind staying focused on keeping the vines in place, he turned back to his friends, who were all gaping at him. Arthur was frowning, but why, Merlin was unsure. He really hated this – he had always been able to read Arthur like a book, but now he was doubting himself, trying to read into every little gesture, most of which meant nothing. He berated himself mentally: this was not the time to be worrying about interpreting Arthur's facial expressions.

Gwaine was the first to recover. He blinked, then smirked. 'I knew there was I reason I liked you so much – you're a little bit illegal too.'

Percival snorted. Trust Gwaine to make something serious into a joke. Merlin had never appreciated that gift more than at that moment.

Leon cleared his throat. 'Is there… anything else you can do?'

Merlin's eyebrow quirked up. 'A few things.'

Arthur interrupted before he could say anything else. 'We need to keep going. Save your strength – only try and cut the vines if Merlin can't untangle them.' With that, he ventured into the gap left by the vines.

The others exchanged a glance before following, Merlin drawing level with Arthur so he could keep moving the vines. Ones they were all through the gap, the vines fell back into place, concealing their path from any onlookers.

It was slow going. Not only did Merlin have to find a path where the leaves were less dense in the first place, they were still aiming for the Dark Tower, and the path of least resistance was rarely in the right direction, meaning their route meandered all over the place. But more than that, Merlin sensed that something – or someone – was working against him. His magic felt thick and slow, when usually it was lighter than starlight. He had to push against every vine, and each step they took through the forest drained him.

Arthur stayed right behind him, on high alert for any approaching danger. He noticed Merlin was lagging, the gaps between the vines growing smaller, until he leaned over to him.

'Are you alright?'

'I think… there's something fighting my magic. It's taking a lot of energy. We need to find somewhere to stop soon.

Arthur pursed his lips, unhappy at the delay but accepting there was nothing he could do. 'Can you look for a clearing or something?'

Merlin expanded his senses, sending tendrils of his power snaking through the leaves. His eyes snapped open. 'About a quarter-mile north. It's small, but should fit all of us.'

Arthur nodded his assent. 'Lead the way.'

When they finally reached the clearing, Merlin collapsed onto a patch of moss, letting out a groan of relief. While the others busied themselves setting up camp, collecting firewood and preparing food, Merlin massaged his temples slowly, trying to release some of the tension that had built up from such prolonged magic use. He kept his eyes shut as he felt someone sit next to him.

'I'm not trading outlaw stories right now, Gwaine,' he said, wanting to preserve his peace for a few more moments.

'He's been theorising all day – I'm surprised you haven't heard him,' the person next to him joked. Merlin opened his eyes to see Elyan, worry carving deep lines into his forehead.

Merlin instantly felt awful. He'd been so worried about Arthur that he'd barely given a thought to how Elyan was coping – Elyan, who had been with her; Elyan, who had told her to run, to leave her protectors.

'I'm sorry it's taking so long. This forest… there's something strange about it, but I don't know what it is.' Merlin knew he was talking too fast, not making much sense, but he had to say something.

'It's alright, Merlin. Without you, we wouldn't have come half this far.' Elyan sounded weary, but sincere.

'We will find her,' Merlin said, reassuring him as he did Arthur. 'We'll bring her home.'

'I know.' They lapsed back into silence for a moment, watching Percival build a fire as he half-smiled at whatever Gwaine was prattling on about.

Elyan nudged him with his shoulder. 'Thank you.'

'For what?'

'For telling us about your magic. That must have been hard – all of us together, not knowing how we'd react. Although, I must admit, Arthur didn't seem surprised – why was that?'

Merlin made a face. He hadn't wanted to tell the others that Arthur already knew, but Elyan was a lot more perceptive than he gave him credit for. 'I told him before, when we went back to the Disir. They gave him the choice between letting magic return to Camelot and saving Mordred, or great risk befalling the kingdom. He didn't know what to do, so… I told him I had magic. He could only choose if he knew sorcerers weren't all evil. I thought I stood the best chance of showing him that.' Merlin stopped himself before he told Elyan how things had shifted between them since.

Elyan stared into the flames of the newly-lit fire. 'You told the king of Camelot you had magic? With no prompting, no coercion – because you wanted to?'

'He deserved to know.'

'Arthur is lucky to have such a trustworthy manser– friend. A trustworthy friend.'

Merlin shook his head. 'I lied to him for so many years. And he let me live, not the other way around.'

Elyan gave him a knowing look. 'He would not have done the same for many others.' Seeing Merlin go red, he changed the subject. 'How much further do you think we have to go?'

'I'm not sure. At least another few miles through the woods, then we need to cross the plain. But how long that will take us, I don't know.'

Elyan stood, clapping him on the shoulder. 'We'll get there. I believe in you, Merlin.' He left him alone on his patch of moss as he joined Percival in making dinner, letting Merlin rest.

* * *

Later that night, Merlin was awoken by a strange rustling in the leaves. He would have put it down to the wind, only there wasn't any wind this deep into the forest. Disentangling himself from his blanket, he went to investigate.

As soon as he got up, the thing making the noise moved, as though it was leading him somewhere. It zipped through vines, barely slowing enough to let Merlin keep up. Once they were out of earshot of the campsite, it flew out from among the roots and leaves, hovering at Merlin's eye level.

The creature shone, providing enough light for Merlin to see it properly. It was a sprite, humanoid but only a few inches tall, with wings and pointed ears and teeth. It wore a finely-made dress of leaves and a sparkling tiara of dewdrops around its head. Despite its size – or lack thereof – and dainty clothes, Merlin's stomach curled in fear. He had never understood people's fascination with the Fae: they were cunning tricksters, with little respect for life. They would make their mischief, regardless of the cost – if they didn't pay the price, it wasn't their problem. A faerie showing up exactly when Arthur was questing to save his wife? That couldn't be a coincidence.

'Who are you?' he asked, unable to stop himself, but then cursed himself internally. The faerie might take his abruptness for rudeness, and then he would really be in trouble.

Instead, the sprite smiled, but in a way that had Merlin's heart picking up tempo. 'I am Queen Mab, the spirit of this place. And you are Emrys, the warlock.'

Merlin's heart sank. Not only Fae, but one of the three faerie queens? That wasn't a good sign.

'Why can't we get out of this forest? My lady,' he tacked on, wishing Gaius had told him more about the Fae.

'Oh, little one, you should not have to ask. Left is right and right is left, and the way behind is the way ahead. It is simple.' Her voice rang like bells – strident and irritating, but musical nonetheless.

'Simple,' Merlin muttered. 'Right.'

'This is only the first challenge. Far greater ones lie ahead.' Queen Mab smiled wickedly, her sharp teeth bright in the darkness.

'Stop talking in riddles!' Merlin said. He was too tired for the twisting words and hidden meanings of faeries. All he could hope for now was to remember all she said, so he could mull it over in the morning.

'Then I will talk in rhyme. Heed my words with due concern, for one of you will not return.'

All thoughts of sleep disappeared. 'What do you mean?'

Mab started laughing, light reflecting off her wings. Merlin glanced back towards the clearing, to the knights, his friends, one of whom might not come back. 'Which one?'

By the time he turned back, Queen Mab was gone, and he was left in darkness.

* * *

The next day, when they set off, Merlin felt Mab's magic ease up, providing less resistance to his own. Heeding Mab's advice, rather than following Arthur's directions – which weren't great at the best of times, and here were utterly useless – he asked him to trust him. Arthur hesitated.

'I wouldn't do anything to put her in danger – you know that.'

After a moment, Arthur nodded, falling back to stay at Merlin's shoulder. The warlock sent a spark of his magic upwards, through the trees, which, when it returned, told him which way was north. He immediately set off in the opposite direction, the others trailing behind him, confused but trusting.

They followed a path of curling smoke that only Merlin could see, heading south, back to Camelot. He still had to hold vines out of the way, sapping his energy, but the further they went, the less he needed to clear the path. The route he had found seemed to be easier to pass through than the rest of the forest.

By mid-afternoon, they reached the edge of the woods. By all reason, they should have been facing the cliff from which they had first seen the spire of the Dark Tower, beyond the forest, but instead, they emerged onto a huge plain, only red dust to be seen for miles around. The Tower was straight ahead, though there was no way to tell how far away.

Arthur said nothing, but clapped Merlin on the shoulder, his hand lingering for just a second, as if drawing comfort by the presence of his friend. Wordlessly, the six men strode out onto the plain, under the beating sun, to find their queen.

They walked for hours, sweating in the sun, feet blistering in their boots, thirsty but trying to conserve water, not knowing how far the Tower was, nor how long it would take them to get home. Every step they took, Merlin knew the Tower should be getting closer, but even if he didn't look up from the sand for a good while, it seemed to stay the same distance away, with no sign of progress. The brightness of the sun made him squint, and after the depletion of his energy in the forest, he was tired. So it wasn't surprising that, when climbing along a ridge in the sand – one that didn't seem like it should be there – Merlin slipped on the loosely-packed sand and slid down it. The lack of solid ground under his feet jolted him properly awake, just in time to stop himself with his magic, narrowly avoiding being impaled on a sword jutting out of ground.

'Merlin!' Arthur's panicked shout came almost automatically, despite the shift between them.

The other knights reached down, helping Merlin scramble back up the ridge. Once Percival pulled him up, he turned back to see what they were all staring at. How he hadn't noticed it before, he had no idea. But now he saw a series of skeletons, in varying stages of decay, some in chainmail, others in the tattered remnants of cloth, all skewered on spears and swords pointing upwards, embedded in the shifting ground for exactly that purpose.

Leon was the first to turn back around, his gaze sweeping the plain as if searching for an approaching enemy, but something else caught his attention. He tapped Arthur on the shoulder. 'Sire?'

Arthur followed his line of sight, as did the others, alerted by the fear in Sir Leon's voice.

The Dark Tower was suddenly much closer, as if in surviving the sword pit, they had passed some test, allowing them to finally approach the Tower.

Now distance seemed to behave normally, shrinking with each metre they covered. But other things started to appear: scraps of cloth; a broken sword; a sun-bleached skeleton, reaching for the Tower. They moved in silence now, an eerie atmosphere descending.

When they reached the shadow of the tower, stretching out across the sand as the sun began to set, Merlin approached Arthur.

'I need to talk to you.'

'What is it, Merlin?' Arthur's tired and mildly exasperated tone was familiar, even if the wariness in his eyes was not.

'Last night, a faerie queen visited the camp. I spoke to her – she warned me that one of us wouldn't make it out alive.' The words came out in a rush, Merlin unwilling to heed the warning but unable to keep it from his king.

Stricken, Arthur looked back at the others: his knights, his companions – his friends. Then his face closed with determination.

'For Guinevere to make it home safely, I would make that sacrifice.'

'So would we all,' Merlin said. 'But I thought you should know before we went in.'

'For that I thank you,' Arthur said, strangely formal. 'But we've come this far. And my wife is in there. I'm not leaving until she's safe.'

* * *

Upon reaching the base of the tower, the knights all drew their swords. Elyan ventured through the doorway first, engulfed immediately by the darkness. The rest followed slowly.

A shiver ran up Merlin's spine – not fear exactly, but definitely the sense that something was wrong. He moved closer to Arthur.

'Something's wrong. It's too easy.'

Not taking his eyes off the stairs they were climbing, Arthur muttered, 'Are you ever happy?'

Almost on cue, they heard a piercing shriek from further up the stairs. The group picked up the pace, running to join Elyan, who had stopped in a large hallway. Arthur shouldered past the others, ducking under the small doorway into the room.

'What was that?'

'It came from through there,' Elyan said, pointing to the other end of the hallway, where another door led to more shadows. 'I think it was Gwen.'

'What are we waiting for then?' Arthur demanded, striding forward.

'Don't!' Elyan shouted, gesturing at them to stay back. Something shifted under Arthur's feet, and moments later, Percival groaned as an arrow buried itself in his leg.

Leon had already stepped towards Percival to help him, releasing another arrow, which Merlin deflected. Leon nodded his thanks.

'It's all rigged,' Arthur said. 'Stay exactly where you are.'

'What triggered it?' Leon asked.

Arthur looked around. 'The flagstones. They must react to pressure.'

Elyan turned away as an idea struck him. He threw his sword down ahead of him. Everyone watched as the flagstone shifted slightly and two arrows shot out of the gargoyle on the walls, narrowly missing Elyan as he ducked. He stepped onto the stone, now inactive, and repeated the process.

'I'll go first,' Merlin said. 'I can do something similar with my magic. Elyan, wait for us to catch up.'

'I'll push on ahead,' Elyan said determinedly. 'The faster one of us gets to my sister, the better.'

'No, Elyan,' Arthur ordered.

'I can test them, and defend us, but only one stone at a time, if we stay together.' Merlin's blood was rushing in his ears, drowning out everything else. His gut told him they shouldn't separate.

'None of us would even be here if it wasn't for me. I have to do this.' Elyan turned back towards the doorway, throwing down his sword, then leaped into the shadows.

'Elyan!' Merlin yelled.

He worked feverishly, testing each stone before stepping onto it, the others close behind. Any time he felt an arrow coming, he deflected it with a gust of wind. They all made it safely through the hallway, running up the stairs to catch up with their friend, but by the time they reached him, it was too late.

They found Gwen sobbing in the highest tower, Elyan lying motionless in her lap. Arthur threw his sword aside and fell to his knees in front of them, wanting to comfort his wife, but unsure how. Merlin could see the powerlessness etched into every line of his face, looking suddenly much older than his years. As a tear ran down his friend's face, Merlin heard the laughter of the faerie queen.

_One of you will not return_.

* * *

Elyan was cremated with full honours, in a ceremony attended by the entire court of Camelot. Arthur spoke of Elyan's love for Camelot, and his sacrifice for its queen, his sister. Gwen said little, walking as though asleep down to the lake, staring at the fire with a faraway expression, tears running down her face. Merlin wanted to help, to comfort her, but knew that only time would heal this wound. Arthur was struggling to come to the same realisation, but the king also had other things on his mind.

A few days after Elyan's death, Merlin came to Arthur's chambers for his duties, to find him pacing restlessly around the room, wearing a path into the stone. Merlin slipped into the room.

'Sire?' he asked. 'What's wrong?'

'I should have gone in myself. I should never have let him go ahead.'

He should have expected this. Arthur suffered from the worst case of survivor's guilt Merlin had ever seen – which was saying something, given that he felt the same. But Arthur couldn't afford to think like that. He had to think of his kingdom. Camelot needed him.

'Morgana enchanted the sword that killed him. Anyone who fought it would die. It was meant for you. By giving his life for Gwen, Elyan also stopped Morgana taking your throne and destroying your legacy.' Merlin hated to be so blunt, especially when Elyan's loss was still so raw – for both of them – but he knew Arthur needed someone to be harsh. Some parts of Uther's influence still affected him, but at least this one could help him.

Arthur's voice was quieter now. 'She did it through magic. Once again, she is proving my father right – much as she would hate that. Maybe I made a mistake. Maybe I shouldn't have let magic back into Camelot.' He bit his lip. 'Every time I think I'm doing the right thing, it blows up in my face.'

Merlin felt a cold hand squeezing his heart. 'I know, Arthur, but please, trust me – by allowing magic into Camelot, you're depriving Morgana of support. If people can practice magic freely under your rule, why would they want a far less benevolent ruler for the same thing? Legalising magic will make people see that you are a different king from your father. Magic isn't the cause of every evil in Camelot, and shouldn't be treated as such.'

Arthur still seemed unconvinced. 'Why are you so adamant that allowing magic back is a good thing? I know you have magic, and that you've used it – dare I say – to help us, but across the entire kingdom, how many magic-users can make the same claim?'

'Don't you get it? No one else can make that claim because if they had tried, Uther would have had their head.' Merlin was growing angry; Arthur was often a prat, but this was more than that. This was actively searching for a problem that wasn't there.

'That's enough, Merlin,' Arthur snapped. But Merlin couldn't stop.

'You don't like admitting that I actually helped – or, at least, that you saw me helping. Without me, we might not have got Gwen back.'

'That's not true,' Arthur said flatly, with an edge to his voice that on any other day Merlin would have heeded. Not today. He had to understand Arthur's change of mind.

'Then what is it?' Merlin pushed. 'Why are you suddenly so worried about bringing magic back? The Disir won't let you go back on your word – hell, _I_ won't let you, because I know what the Disir would do in retaliation. It isn't because Morgana took Gwen – she didn't attack her because you brought magic back. She's always wanted her gone, ever since she became queen. So what is it?'

'It's you!' Arthur burst out.

Merlin blinked. 'Me?'

'I can't stand knowing that you've always been this powerful, always able to do something, always saving us, saving me, and yet you never said anything. You never even suggested you might be doing more than I knew. How am I supposed to deal with that?' Arthur refused to look at him. 'Whenever you were worried, I called you a coward, but that's never been true – you just knew more about what could be waiting for us, but still you came with me.'

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to dispel some of the nervous energy that had come over him. 'Then putting your life in my hands? How can you ever know what that means to me? That you trust me that much?' His tone softened. 'All this power, yet you stay my manservant. You've never asked for anything else. Now I see how much you've done for me – for Camelot. Always putting yourself in danger, without a thought for yourself, only that I come home safely.' His voice broke. 'How am I supposed to deal with that?'

Merlin stepped further into the room, coming to face his king, only a few feet away. 'You don't have to. I'm still here. You're still here. I'll always be here, protecting you. Yes, I have magic. No, I'm not as helpless as I look. But I'm still me. You still know who I am. What I am.'

Arthur looked up at him, his blue eyes searching Merlin's. 'And what is that?'

Merlin didn't look away, not even for a second. 'I'm your friend, Arthur.'

At that, Arthur broke down. He staggered to the bed and sat down, sobbing. Merlin joined him, wrapping his arms around him, providing the support he knew Arthur needed, the anchor to keep him grounded. He said nothing, simply letting his king cry: for Elyan, for the fear of losing Gwen, for Merlin – his passing fear of him, the dread of everything changing, regret, shame – everything. They sat there for a long time, but Merlin didn't think of leaving. Arthur needed him.

More importantly, Arthur let him stay. He refused to be seen as vulnerable by anyone – even Gwen, most of the time. She saw pieces, but this was the first time since Uther's death that Arthur had let himself rely on someone else. The first time he had let himself be truly defenceless.

No one would ever love their king like Merlin loved his. Arthur knew that. Even with his magic – the thing Arthur had been taught to distrust above all else – Arthur trusted him at his weakest. And for that, Merlin was honoured.

Things wouldn't be the same between them. Maybe they never would.

Maybe they would be better.

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**A few of you were asking if I'm continuing this story - here's your answer! My vague plan is to update once every two weeks or so, maybe a few days out either way. **

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did, leave a review - I love hearing what you thought. If you didn't, leave a review anyway - I always want to know how to improve.**

**Til next time**

**Love,**

**NewtPevensie xoxoxox**


	3. A Lesson in Vengeance

Why Arthur wanted Merlin to come along on his romantic anniversary picnic with Gwen, Merlin didn't know. But he was glad he did when Arthur's horse reared up, whinnying in alarm, and Arthur was thrown to the ground as several thugs came out from among the trees, swords out and intent on harming the king.

'Arthur!' Gwen cried.

The king dived for his sword, but Merlin blasted the thugs with his magic. They flew backwards, hitting their heads on trees or roots, instantly unconscious.

By now, Arthur had drawn his sword. Looking round at the still bodies of their attackers, he thrust the blade into the ground. He glared at Merlin. 'Seriously?'

Merlin shrugged, half-smiling. Just like Arthur to be annoyed at avoiding a fight. He glanced at Gwen, with whom he would normally share a mildly exasperated look at Arthur's lack of self-preservation, only to find her staring at them in shock.

'It's okay, Gwen,' he reassured her. 'They're all out for the count.'

She shook herself and nodded, steering her horse to join Arthur's.

Merlin was dispatched back to the castle to fetch some guards to take the thugs to the dungeons, while the other two rode on to enjoy their picnic. It wasn't until they returned, and Gaius was summoned to check Arthur's arm, that he realised Gwen's look of shock wasn't at the thugs.

It was at him. At his magic.

* * *

The next morning, Tyr, Arthur's stable hand who had been accused of tampering with the king's saddle, was found dead. No one should have been able to see him after Merlin visited the previous morning, but whoever did had slipped past the guards and was long gone.

Gaius looked up, having inspected the boy's body. 'The blade punctured his heart. He suffered very little, I'm glad to say.'

Arthur nodded distractedly. 'You've spoken to the night patrols?'

'They saw nothing unusual, sire,' Percival replied.

'What about the guards? Why didn't they raise the alarm?'

Mordred held up a small pouch, tied closed with a rough piece of string. 'I found this in the grate, in the guardroom.' He held it out to Gaius, who sniffed it.

'Clary wort,' he pronounced. At the blank look of the knights, he explained, 'A powerful soporific, sire.'

Arthur sighed. Face in his hands, the light from the torches glinted off the heavy silver ring on his finger. 'I've been a fool. I should have spoken to him when I had the chance.'

Meanwhile, Merlin had been examining the door. There was no sign of any forced entry, of a fight, anything. The realisation was not a pleasant one. 'Arthur?'

'What, Merlin?'

'Whoever did this is no stranger to Camelot. They knew this citadel inside out.' That was the only explanation: how else could the killer have known about the grate in the guardroom? Or have got past the knights on patrol? 'And the killer must have been the person Tyr told me threatened his mother. It was someone he knew – why else would he have come so close to the cell door?' he added, pointing to the positioning of the boy's body.

Arthur's face hardened as he took in what Merlin was saying. 'We have a traitor in Camelot.'

* * *

Merlin was hurrying through the corridors of the castle, heading for Arthur's chambers, where Gaius had told him to bring his physician's bag. A patrol had been attacked and Gwaine had been injured falling off his horse. Gaius was fairly sure there were no broken bones, but wanted to do a proper examination in case anything else was wrong.

Bag bumping against his hip, assorted vials clinking musically, Merlin saw Gwen step through a door. He called her name and she stopped, waiting for him to catch up to her.

'I've been looking for you everywhere – Arthur's been beside himself with worry.'

She frowned. 'There was no need to worry. I was just walking in the meadow.' When Merlin said nothing, she continued. 'Since Elyan died, sometimes I just need time to myself.'

Now Merlin nodded sympathetically. 'I understand, but you should be careful. A patrol was attacked in the woods barely an hour ago.'

Her eyes widened, the perfect image of shock. 'I had no idea. Thank you, Merlin. I'll be more careful next time.' She looked down at the bag slung over Merlin's shoulder. 'You seem busy – I should leave you to it.' Smiling, she passed by him, heading for the end of the corridor. For some reason, Merlin found himself watching her go, trying to figure out why she seemed… off. She turned the corner, her lilac cloak billowing behind her, and was gone.

Merlin stared at the corner where she had been for a few seconds more, then shook himself. Of course she had changed: her brother had died in her arms barely a month ago. At the same time, she was being held captive by Morgana, and no one knew what awful things the witch had done to her – she wouldn't tell anyone, not even Arthur.

He turned on his heel and carried on towards Arthur's chambers.

When he arrived, he let himself in and passed the bag to Gaius. He had clearly come in halfway through a conversation. Arthur was still asking Gwaine questions, trying to work out what had happened.

'Anything else you remember?'

'Nothing,' Gwaine said, rubbing his head. 'One minute I was pursuing them through the trees, the next I was flat on the ground.'

'You're sure it was sorcery?' It sounded like he'd already asked that several times.

'Without a doubt. Powerful, too.'

'Morgana?' Merlin asked. The others looked at him, as though they hadn't noticed him come in, which was possible – much as Arthur joked about his clumsiness, he could be very quiet when he wanted.

Gwaine winced as Gaius set about bandaging his arm. 'It's possible. But why was she there?'

'Maybe she was meeting someone?' Merlin suggested.

'Why would she come so close to the citadel?'

'Maybe she had to. Maybe whoever she was meeting was here in Camelot.'

Arthur interrupted their theorising. 'Until we have more to go on, this is idle speculation. Gaius, Merlin, see what you can find in the woods. Perhaps there's something we overlooked.'

Gwaine made to get up. 'I'll go with them.'

Gaius's hand shot out to push him back into his chair. 'You'll do no such thing. You rest, Gwaine. Physician's orders.'

Arthur left, Gaius at his side, while Merlin packed up the physician's things. After a few moments of silence, with Gwaine testing his arm by stretching it carefully, Merlin said, 'I don't think this is over.'

'What do you mean?' Gwaine angled his head, trying to read Merlin's face.

'Whoever's responsible for attacking Arthur… what's to stop them from trying again?'

Gwaine hurried to reassure his friend. 'They haven't had a chance. The citadel's on full alert. Trust me, Arthur's safe as long as he remains in Camelot.'

Merlin's brow furrowed. 'That's just it. What if he's not safe here? What if Camelot's the most dangerous place he could be? Who has access to the stables? Who knows the way to the cells? Who knew Tyr would do anything to protect his mother?' He leaned closer to Gwaine, holding his gaze with an intensity that worried the knight. 'You need to stay close to Arthur. Do whatever you can to protect him.'

Gwaine nodded, serious for once. 'You have my word on it, Merlin.'

The servant picked up Gaius's bag and headed for the door. He opened it to find a silhouette in the opening. He started, taking a step backwards and letting the newcomer in, to realise it was only Mordred. He nodded hello, when an idea struck him.

Tentatively, he tried to send him a message the same way Mordred did when he was a boy. '_Mordred?_'

'_Merlin?_' A voice echoed in his head, tinged with confusion.

'_Sorry_,' he sent back. '_Just checking this still works_.'

'_What's going on?_'

'_I need you to be another set of eyes. If you hear anything wrong, tell me._'

Mordred frowned. '_Of course. Why?_'

'_Arthur's in danger._'

'What's with you two?' Gwaine's voice rang through the room. 'You're just… staring.'

Merlin glanced back at the knight. 'Nothing. I'll see you later, Gwaine.' Then he left to find Gaius, hearing Mordred pass on a message from Percival as he moved out of earshot.

* * *

Up to his elbows in hot water, Merlin was grumbling. Arthur was getting the brunt of it, despite him not being present, though he aimed a lot of his irritation at himself as well.

He spent a lot of time in Arthur's empty chambers: cleaning, polishing, preparing clothes, the list went on – and he was never interrupted. But the one time he didn't want to be seen, Arthur had to cut training short and come in to find him rooting through Gwen's clothes.

To be fair, Merlin needed to work on his excuses. Arthur might know about his magic, removing the need for him to lie about that, but he was still an awful liar. '_I was checking for holes_.' Could he not have thought of anything more convincing? The last time Arthur had found him with a lady's clothes was bad enough – he had stolen a dress from Morgana to dress Freya, the shapeshifter he'd helped escape, and Arthur had thought he'd taken it for himself. Arthur had been perfectly accepting, but still. It was embarrassing. Especially because this time, he'd had to feign confusion about where the arms went in a dress.

Merlin facepalmed, his wet hand making an inordinately loud noise against his forehead, drawing the attention of the surly cook.

She glared at him. 'What are you doing, boy?'

Merlin sighed internally. The cook couldn't stand him – on more than one occasion, she'd hit him with a ladle or a wooden spoon, and god forbid he tried to steal a pastry. She also tended to get unreasonably angry at any disruptions in her kitchen – including, apparently, him hitting himself in the face in embarrassment.

He held up a soaking shirt. 'Washing.'

She glowered, her beady eyes narrowing further. 'Don't play innocent with me, boy. You're a menace, you are. If you're working, so be it, but you won't disturb my kitchen.'

Merlin gritted his teeth and turned back to the huge washing basket sitting next to the sink. Disentangling each item before dropping it into the water, he took out a shirt, two pairs of breeches, a cape that would need mending, another shirt, some socks – ugh – and a lilac cloak. Merlin frowned, until he realised it was Gwen's – the one she had been wearing when he saw her in the hallway, on the way to Arthur's rooms.

He rubbed the material between his fingers. It was so much smoother than Arthur's clothes, almost silky. He smoothed the material down, folding it so he could add it to Gwen's other clothes, but he realised that the edge of the cloak felt different. He glanced down to see gold and silver stitching bordering the cloak.

His eyes widened. He grabbed the scrap he and Gaius had found in the woods from his pocket and compared it to the cloak. It was a perfect match.

Heart thumping, he unfolded the cloak, following the edge round until he found a tear. With shaking hands, he held the scrap up to the hole, where it fitted exactly, the embroidery filling in the gap in the pattern.

_Hell_.

Gwen was the traitor. That was why she was acting so strangely. Whatever Morgana had done to her in the Dark Tower had somehow changed her allegiance away from Arthur and Camelot, to Morgana.

Cloak forgotten, Merlin raced through the castle. He had to get to Arthur.

But by the time he reached the king's chambers, he was too late. Arthur was slumped in his chair, barely breathing at the table set for one, even though Merlin knew he had been planning a romantic dinner with Gwen.

Merlin heaved him up and managed to get him to his bed, where he lay, unconscious. He stared at his friend, trying to keep control of himself but he was so scared it took him several moments to figure out what to do next.

_Mordred_, he said. Even in that one word, he could hear the mounting hysteria in himself. _Get Gaius. It's Arthur. Come quickly. _

Within minutes, Gaius, Gwen, and a full retinue of knights – including Mordred – had arrived at Arthur's chambers. The physician was examining him, his mouth becoming a grimmer line with every test he carried out. Finally, he straightened.

His voice was sombre. 'All the evidence suggests that the king was poisoned.'

'Are you certain, Gaius?' Gwen asked, her worried façade setting Merlin's teeth on edge, now he knew what she had done.

'Quite certain. The sweating, the corruption of the skin, the traces of tincture around the ear – they all point to the use of henbane.'

'Is there no hope?' With every word coming out of his queen's mouth, Merlin had to hold himself back from accusing her on the spot. He knew that would only end badly: it was his word against hers, and even though everyone in the room knew and trusted him, Gwen was still queen, and Arthur trusted her just as much as he did Merlin. It would end in chaos, which meant Merlin would have to stay silent. At least for now.

'The poison is a deadly one, milady. There may be a way to arrest its course, but I cannot guarantee it.'

Gwen nodded, looking distraught. Then she surveyed those gathered in her husband's chambers. 'One thing I know for certain. Whoever did this lives among us.'

Merlin was starting to get a bad feeling about this. She had another plan in motion already. Who was going to take the fall for this?

'Whoever did this has betrayed us all. Someone who is free to roam the citadel as they please. Someone who has access to the king's stables, the king's prison, even the king's food.' She paused, as if evaluating how her next words would be taken. 'There is only one I know of.' Her eyes met the young sorcerer's, a hint of triumph quickly disguised by a veil of sadness. 'Merlin.'

Merlin almost rolled his eyes. Who else would she blame than Arthur's most loyal servant?

Two guards came forward, taking his arms firmly as they led him out of the room, down towards the dungeons. As they left, he heard the commotion of Mordred and Gwaine protesting that Merlin would never do such a thing to Arthur, and Leon suggesting that perhaps Gwen was being too hasty.

Upon being thrown into a cell, Merlin sat on the bunk and thought. Gaius had taught him about poisons: henbane was one without an easy antidote. Creating a cure would take several days, and that was if Gaius had all the ingredients on hand. The only way to save Arthur would be for him to use his magic, which he couldn't if he was locked up here.

Slowly, a plan formed. But it would only work if he was very lucky, and if his friends trusted him as much as he trusted them.

* * *

Night had truly fallen. Little light entered the dungeons at the best of times, but now the small window was an opening into the dark sky, the only brightness coming from two torches the guards had lit at dusk.

'_Mordred?_'

'_If I'd known you would be this annoying when you finally decided to talk to me, I don't know if I would have bothered_.' Mordred's dry answer was somewhat belied by the relief that permeated his mental voice.

'_I can save Arthur. But you need to get me out of here_.'

Merlin felt Mordred go silent: not like he'd cut the connection, but rather as though he was deep in thought.

'_Give me ten minutes_.'

Eleven and a half minutes later, Merlin heard Mordred speaking to the guards stationed outside the dungeons. 'Sir Leon wishes to interrogate the prisoner.' When the guards protested, Mordred snapped, 'As Captain of the king's knights, I would not advise ignoring his orders.'

A clinking of a key in the lock, and Mordred appeared, opening the cell door and grabbing Merlin by the arm. As soon as they were out of the dungeons, he let go, but blocked the way, crossing his arms expectantly.

'What. Happened.' His words were clipped, like he was trying to contain his emotions.

Merlin shot an anxious glance around them, worried someone might come across them and question why the servant accused of poisoning Arthur was free. 'We don't have time for this, Mordred.'

'Be quick, then.' Mordred might trust that Merlin wouldn't hurt Arthur, but he wasn't letting him close until he knew who would.

Merlin bit his lip. 'It's Gwen,' he said. 'Morgana enchanted her in the Dark Tower. She's the one orchestrating it. But Gwen is the one enacting her plans.'

The knight stared at him, shocked, then paled. 'Gwen is still with him. If Gaius has left them…' He didn't bother finishing the thought. The alternative was too awful to contemplate.

Wordlessly the pair hurried on.

As they reached the corridor of Arthur's chambers, Merlin stopped. he looked at Mordred meaningfully, but when he didn't register, he spoke in his mind. '_Check who's on guard_.'

Mordred peeked around the corner. He relaxed minutely. '_It's Gwaine_.'

Gwaine started as they reached him, then grinned when he realised who, exactly, was with Mordred. Then his smile faded.

'She's pretty adamant it was you.'

'You know me, Gwaine. Would I ever hurt Arthur?'

'Only if he was being a real prat,' Gwaine quipped. He paused, thinking. 'Gaius trusts you, too. But we'll need to get Gwen out of there if you want to – you know…' He hesitated, then wiggled his fingers emphatically.

'Play the lyre?' Merlin raised an eyebrow. At Gwaine's mildly exasperated look, his lips twitched upwards slightly, despite the circumstances. 'I'm going to try to heal him, yes.'

Gwaine nodded resolutely. 'Right. Merlin, you hide. Mordred, take my place on guard when I come out. If Gwen asks, you came with a message from Leon.' With that, he knocked on Arthur's door and let himself in.

Merlin darted to a small broom cupboard across the hall. Closing the door behind him quietly, he waited.

A few minutes later, he heard Gwaine leave, Gwen hurrying alongside him, asking why Leon needed her. For once, Gwaine's ability to talk nonsense came in useful as he distracted her until they were out of sight.

Mordred opened the cupboard door. 'Ready?'

Merlin said nothing, merely entering Arthur's rooms to see his king.

When Gaius saw them, he answered the question Merlin had written all over his face. 'His heart is nearly stopped. I fear he is close to death.'

Merlin's stomach lurched. He couldn't lose Arthur like his, betrayed by his wife, him unable to help… He shook himself. Thinking like that wasn't helping.

He placed a hand on Arthur's chest, feeling for a heartbeat. Like Gaius said, it was slow and erratic, thumping irregularly. He sent a spark of magic into his body, trying to sense the poison. The knowledge that came back to him made him feel even worse.

'The sickness is so deep in him. I don't know if I have the power to bring him back.' His voice cracked on the last word, betraying his fear for his friend.

Then Mordred, who had been silent since they entered the room, said: 'I can help.'

Gaius and Merlin both stared at him, until the latter nodded. He placed his hands over Arthur's heart again, and Mordred placed his on top of Merlin's.

'I'm not here to do the spell,' the druid boy said. 'I'm just giving you a little extra push.'

Merlin met his gaze steadily, understanding passing between them. He took a deep breath and began chanting, imagining the poison seeping out of Arthur's body. His eyes flashed gold, and he gasped at the shock of the sheer power flowing through them both. Arthur's skin glowed gold where Merlin's hands touched him, the light sinking into his body as he kept chanting.

Merlin was sweating; the energy required for this sort of healing was immense, even if he did have Mordred helping him. Breathing heavily, he and Mordred both stepped back to let Gaius check the king's pulse. Merlin's chest felt tight, like he wasn't getting enough air. Mordred was stony-faced as Gaius straightened.

'I can't –'

'Merlin,' Arthur groaned. He shifted, then his eyes fluttered open.

Merlin almost sobbed in relief. Mordred grinned, but it faded as Arthur tried to sit up, wincing. He darted forward to support him, helping manoeuvre him into a more comfortable position. Arthur waved him away as soon as he was settled.

'Why are you here?' he asked groggily.

'Oh, you know,' Merlin said, discretely wiping his eyes, 'just saving your life. Again.'

Arthur huffed, but Merlin could tell he was glad Merlin was there. Then his gaze shifted. 'And Mordred?'

The young knight grimaced, glancing at Merlin, who nodded minutely.

'Do you remember the druid boy you saved all those years ago?' Merlin asked.

Arthur frowned. 'Yes? What does that have to do with anything?'

Mordred cleared his throat. 'That was me, sire.'

The king's eyes widened. He searched the man's face, trying to match the features to those of a half-forgotten boy. Whatever he saw must have convinced him, because dim recognition seemed to flicker in his eyes. 'How do I not remember that?'

'A lot of magic was at play. It is not unusual for memories of such times to be distorted,' Gaius said authoritatively.

Arthur appeared to accept the physician's explanation, but then he froze. 'So… you have magic too?'

Mordred's gaze darted to Merlin, then back to his king. 'Yes, sire.' His back straightened almost imperceptibly, as if he were steeling himself for an immediate dismissal.

'Ugh.' Arthur let himself fall back against his pillows. 'First Merlin, now you?' His attention turned to Merlin. 'And you knew?'

'I did.'

Arthur made a face. 'Tell me, Merlin. Do any of my other knights have magic?'

Merlin pretended to think. 'Well…'

Arthur looked worried.

'No, sire.'

The king let out a long breath. 'Good. That's… good.' The last word was barely more than a sigh as he fell asleep.

Merlin took a step towards his friend, but Gaius stopped him. 'He's still recovering from the poison. He'll be fine.'

Merlin stared at him for a moment, then stepped back. Gaius wouldn't lie to him, not if Arthur was in danger.

The physician glanced out of the window, where the sky was beginning to lighten. 'You need to get back to the dungeons, before anyone gets suspicious.'

Getting back into the cell was even easier than getting out. Seeing the sweat on Merlin's still-pale face, the guards didn't question where he had been, especially with Mordred's firm grip on his arm – which, Merlin had to admit, was playing more than a small part in keeping him upright. Mordred guided him to the bunk, then went to leave. Just before he closed the door, he turned back.

'Thank you.'

'Thank you.'

They both smiled at their unintended simultaneity. It was awkward, but if Merlin was honest, tonight had done wonders for his trust of the druid boy.

'I know why I'm thanking you – for helping. Why are you thanking me?' Merlin was so tired he couldn't stop himself from asking.

'For letting me help.' He said it like it should have been obvious. Merlin often forgot how young Mordred was still. He felt the need to prove himself at every opportunity. Well, Merlin was glad to offer this one.

'It was an honour. You saved your king today, Mordred,' he said honestly.

Mordred looked bashful. Half-stumbling over his cape as he left, he locked the door behind him. 'Goodnight, Merlin.'

'Night, Mordred.'

* * *

The next morning, Gaius and Gwaine came to release him.

Gwaine winked. 'If you've got a moment, the king would like a word.'

When Merlin knocked, Arthur lay down the envoy from another monarch he was reading.

'Merlin, this is one of the two, possibly three, moments in my life when I've actually been glad to see you.'

The warlock smiled. 'My thoughts exactly, sire. How are you feeling?'

'Like death. Well, death warmed up, at least.'

'I can imagine,' Merlin muttered. After last night's efforts, he too was feeling less than optimal. That much energy couldn't be expounded very often – it would take a few days for him to recover fully.

'It seems like we've both been through something of an ordeal.' Arthur gestured towards a chair, inviting him to sit. He took it gratefully.

'I'm sorry about what happened, truly. As soon as I heard, I told them it couldn't possibly have been you. I even had the cook confirm your alibi.' He raised an eyebrow. 'She really doesn't like you.'

Merlin snorted. 'The feeling's mutual.' He paused. 'Thank you.'

'I also told them you simply weren't bright enough to organise an assassination attempt.' Arthur's yes gleamed with mischief.

'That's very thoughtful,' Merlin said in mock seriousness.

The king accepted the compliment in pretend gratitude. Then he sobered. 'Did I remember last night properly? Did you save me?'

Merlin nodded. 'I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone. Let everyone think Gaius healed you.' at Arthur's confused look, he explained: 'I was meant to be in the cells. If people knew I healed you, there would be questions about who helped me get out. I'd rather my magic wasn't public knowledge quite yet.'

'And… Mordred?' Arthur seemed to be dreading the answer, but there was only one Merlin could give.

'He is – was – a druid. He has magic too.'

Arthur took a steadying breath, then sighed. 'Do you trust him?'

Merlin met his eyes evenly. 'I do.' As he answered, he realised that his words were true. He trusted the druid boy.

'Okay,' Arthur said, almost to himself. 'Okay.'

The room was silent, both men preoccupied with their own thoughts. Merlin was finding it hard to stay composed now he had proof Arthur was beginning to trust him again. He'd always trusted his judgment on people, even if it sometimes took him time to accept it. Speaking of which… he had to say something about Gwen. If Arthur wasn't on his guard, who knew what she might try to do?

'Arthur… I need to tell you something.'

He didn't seem to notice the sudden dark undertone of Merlin's voice. 'Sorry, Merlin, another time. They're waiting for me in the council chambers. Thanks to Guinevere, some new evidence has come to light.'

Merlin stopped short. What evidence?

Arthur was already gone. Muttering under his breath, Merlin followed.

* * *

Silently fuming, Merlin watched Gwen soak up the applause of the court. According to Arthur, she had miraculously found the potion maker who had created the poison that had almost killed him. He had sold the poison to Morgana, though how she had administrated it was still a mystery – that is, to everyone other than Merlin, Mordred, and Gaius. Nevertheless, Arthur felt it was only her due that her work should not go unnoticed.

He noticed Mordred glaring less than subtly at Gwen. '_Stop glaring at her_.'

'_Why? She poisoned him and is now being praised for finding the poison she used.'_

'_Someone's going to start asking questions if they see you glaring at her.'_

'_So? I'll tell them she did this. She doesn't deserve this… acclaim. Arthur doesn't deserve this. His wife is trying to kill him.'_

'_I know, Mordred. But we can't expose her yet. We need more proof. Besides, she knows I have magic now. We can't risk her finding out about you, too, and reminding Morgana how close you are to Arthur. You need to stay inconspicuous.'_

Merlin watched the boy frown, then attempt to smooth out his expression. When it was pleasantly bland, his jarringly sarcastic voice said, _'Better now?'_

'_Much_.'

Gwen was turning slowly, acknowledging each section of the crowd. Finally, she turned back towards Merlin, who, as usual, was leaning on a pillar in the corner behind Arthur, beside Gaius. Their eyes met for a moment, her filling with a strange mixture of triumph and disdain, replaced quickly by a calculating look that chilled him to the bone. Then she moved on, accepting the praise being showered upon her for her part in protecting the king.

'_She knows I know_.'

Mordred's eyes widened as this information was relayed to him. '_Hell_.'

Morgana had a secret weapon in Camelot. Well, now, so did Merlin.

'_From now on, one of us stays with Arthur at all times. On hunts, on missions, on walks into the town – one of us always knows exactly where he is_.'

Mordred nodded once, then joined in the cheering. If he was to avoid suspicion, he had to play the part fully.

Merlin's gaze swept over to Arthur, pride in his wife exuding from every line of his body. He may not know it, but his wife was the most dangerous person in Camelot. She had everyone's trust, and nothing to lose.

As Merlin started cheering as well, he vowed he would remove the threat to his king. Preferably by releasing Gwen from Morgana's influence, but if he had to do something more drastic, he would.

Long live the queen, indeed.

* * *

**Hey guys! **

**Sorry this chapter's a bit late - I've been away for a couple of days and now my internet is on the blink. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this - Merlin's starting to trust Mordred, which is fun. If you liked it, leave a review - I really love reading them. If you didn't, leave a review anyway - I really do want to know how to improve. **

**Love, **

**NewtPevensie xoxoxox **


	4. The Hollow Queen

'Stupid… no good… blind king…' Merlin muttered to himself, filling a basin with hot water. Of course it wasn't enough that Gwen was under Morgana's spell. Arthur had to be oblivious to there being anything wrong as well.

In the last week, Merlin and Mordred had managed to avoid at least three assassination attempts. First, a poisonous horse-chestnut salad that Merlin had 'accidentally' dropped on the floor while serving Arthur's dinner. Second, a trap set up inside his wardrobe that would have catapulted a stone directly at his head when he opened it. Only Merlin's quick magic and faster reflexes had saved him when he, rather than the king, opened the door to find Arthur's shirt. The third Mordred had averted by catching Arthur when his horse spooked during training. They'd managed to hide that anything was wrong, but Merlin knew that sooner or later, one of them would slip up. They would be a second too late, a yard out of reach, and Arthur would be gone.

They had to do something about Gwen.

Merlin's train of thought was interrupted by a creaking behind him. The door to the kitchen only creaked if it was opened slowly, so anyone who knew the kitchen gave it a quick shove to open it quietly. He turned slowly, on guard, only to see a boy in the doorway. His black curls were just that bit too long, like his hair hadn't been cut in a while, so it fell in his eyes. His clothes were dusty and well-worn, like he'd been travelling for a while.

'Who are you?' Merlin asked. He thought it was as good a start as any.

'My name is Daegal,' the boy replied.

Merlin frowned. It was late, with guards patrolling the town and the palace. 'How'd you get in here?'

'It wasn't difficult,' the boy said, dodging the question.

'Really? Get out.' Merlin went to shut the door, too tired and too scared for Arthur to deal with a village boy with a talent for sneaking around.

'Please,' Daegal said, blocking the door with his foot. 'It's my sister. She's sick, she needs a physician.'

'Bring her to Gaius,' Merlin answered impatiently. He still had chores to do. Gaius was probably still working, but most of his jobs could wait until tomorrow if the boy's sister was close.

'I can't. It's too dangerous for our kind.' Daegal pushed his sleeve up, revealing a triskele – a druid symbol – tattooed on his arm. Three swirls, connecting in a single point. 'They say you're a powerful healer – far more so than Gaius. That you have magic in your blood.'

'Who's they?' Merlin interrupted.

Daegal ignored him. 'I need you to come with me. She needs your help, or she'll die.'

Merlin heard footsteps coming. He stepped away from the door, ordering Daegal through with a snapped, '_In_.' Closing the door behind them, he thought for a few seconds.

'How far is she?' If the girl was close, he could ask Gaius to go anyway – he had no problems with druids.

Daegal hesitated. 'The Valley of the Fallen Kings.'

Merlin's hopes fell. 'That's more than half a day away.' Half a day there, half a day back, plus however long it took to heal this girl, along with the inevitable rests for the boy – although he looked strong, he was also painfully thin. That came at a price. He would be gone all day – maybe even two. Leaving Arthur for that long was dangerous. Who knew what Gwen might try if he wasn't there?

'I can't.' Even as he said it, he regretted making the choice. His destiny was to protect Arthur, but did that mean he had to let this little girl die? What if he could save her?

Daegal stared at him. 'I risked my life coming here. Please tell me it was not in vain.'

Merlin opened the door. Daegal crossed the threshold, but turned back to him, somehow sensing his doubts. He tried to snap himself out of it. 'Go. Get out of here.'

The druid boy met his gaze levelly. 'Will you help her?'

Suddenly Merlin saw another druid boy with black hair. He had risked his life – along with those of Morgana and Arthur – to get him out of Camelot when the entire citadel was looking for him. That boy had grown into a brave, dependable man, who could protect Arthur for two days without Merlin's help. This girl deserved the same chance to grow up into something amazing.

Distantly, he heard himself say, 'Meet me… at the entrance to the Darkling Woods at first light.'

Daegal nodded, then left, melting into the shadows. Merlin returned to his chores, filling up the basin with now-cool water. Setting more water to boil in a pan, he thought a message to Mordred.

_I need to leave for the day. Keep an eye on Gwen. _

* * *

The next morning found Merlin walking through the forest, leaves rustling under his feet as he aimed for a fallen tree that was a common meeting place for people visiting other villages in the kingdom. He'd packed food and water for a two-day trip for both of them, guessing Daegal wouldn't have much in the way of food. He hoped to be home by nightfall, but if something held them up, he wanted to be prepared. He'd left Gaius with instructions to tell Arthur he had to be away for the day, but not to tell him until he asked – the Sarrum of Amata was arriving today, and Arthur would be too busy to notice he wasn't around.

Daegal was sitting on the fallen tree when Merlin reached him. 'Sorry I'm late.'

'I though you weren't coming.' His relief was palpable.

'I was getting you some breakfast.' Merlin tossed him a wrapped parcel of warm bread, fresh from the palace kitchens.

The boy hopped off the tree, breaking off a piece of bread and stuffing it in his mouth. 'It's good of you to do this.' His words were muffled from the food.

Merlin stifled a smile. Even if he couldn't help Daegal's sister, at least he would eat properly today, which – from the speed at which the bread was disappearing – he probably hadn't in a long time.

'Won't you get in trouble?' Daegal asked.

'Nope.'

'But you're the king's servant.'

'Arthur won't even notice I'm gone,' Merlin said, passing the boy another roll.

* * *

_Arthur's yelling for you across the castle_. Mordred's amused voice broke Merlin's attention on Daegal's arm. They'd been walking for a couple of hours before he noticed Daegal repeatedly touching his arm carefully. He had a deep cut on his bicep, from where he fell getting into the citadel, he said. Merlin had applied comfrey to stop the blood flow and was now wrapping it up to keep the poultice in place.

_So soon?_ Merlin replied, somewhat surprised. He knew Arthur relied on him a lot, but even so – he never thought he was that indispensable. Apparently he was wrong.

_You'd better hurry up with this boy_, Mordred said. _The Sarrum is arriving soon and goodness knows__Arthur needs to focus on that, not what you're up to._

_Thanks_, Merlin said. _Anything on Gwen?_

_Nothing so far. But I'm watching out_.

'Where did you learn all this?' Daegal's question brought Merlin back to the forest.

_I have to go_, he sent to Mordred, then cut the connection. 'Gaius,' he said. 'When I first came to Camelot, he took me in, taught me everything I know.' He tied off the bandage, ripped from the bottom of his shirt. 'What about you, your family? What are they like?'

Daegal looked away. 'I only have a sister.'

Merlin's voice was gentle. 'Your parents?'

'My mother's dead.' Daegal said it bluntly, like the pain was easier to deal with if he didn't dance around it.

'She was a druid too?'

The boy nodded, his hair falling into his eyes. He brushed it away with his uninjured arm, then gingerly stretched the newly-bandaged one. 'Gaius taught you well.' He let his arm drop. 'You're lucky to have him.'

Merlin gave him a bashful smile, scratching his head. 'I am.' He pushed himself up off the ground, then held his hand out to help Daegal up. 'Come on.'

They forged ahead, stopping only when Merlin heard Daegal's stomach grumbling. He passed him an apple, red and crisp, laughing when the boy moaned in delight as the juices spilled over his chin.

In seconds, the apple was gone, the core thrown into the underbrush. Merlin tossed him another.

He caught it, but frowned. 'Don't you like apples?'

'They're my favourite,' Merlin admitted, crouching under a tree to adjust something in his pack that had been digging into his back.

'Then why are you giving them to me?' Daegal sounded confused.

'I don't need it. I had a big breakfast.'

'Why are you being like this? People I've met, they're not like you. They don't care. I don't matter.' The boy's voice was forlorn, as if an old wound had been reopened, split by a kindness as simple as an apple.

Merlin slung his pack over his shoulder, then went to stand in front of Daegal. He looked up at him, wide-eyed and worried.

'Never think that,' Merlin said. He held his gaze steadily, trying to impress upon him how important his words were. 'We all matter.'

Daegal nodded slowly, glancing away. Merlin couldn't help but wonder what had happened to him to make him so starved of gentleness. A druid's life was hard, even if magic were legal, but that didn't mean it was cruel. And he had a sister – surely she was kind to him.

Daegal was already walking along the track towards the pass only a few hundred yards away. Merlin hurried to catch up.

They ventured into the pass together, winding around fallen rocks and avoiding roots sticking out of the steep banks of the pass. They were almost at the end when Merlin noticed a strange patch of light shaking around on the floor, as if… it was reflecting off something.

He didn't even think. He scrambled for cover, anything to hide him from the bandits walking along the top of the pass, over the ridge, swords glinting in the sunlight.

_Daegal_, he hissed in the boy's head. _Bandits_.

Daegal kept walking.

_Get down!_

He didn't seem to hear him. Merlin didn't waste any more time. he practically tackled him, pulling him to the ground, one hand over his mouth to keep him quiet. Daegal struggled for a moment, then stilled as he noticed what Merlin had already seen.

They waited, barely breathing, until all the bandits had passed them by and were out of sight. Slowly, Merlin removed his hand from Daegal's mouth and let him sit up.

'Couldn't you hear me?' he asked, frowning.

'No…' The boy still looked scared. 'You saved my life. Thank you.'

Merlin wouldn't meet his eyes, his mind whirring. Something was wrong here, but he couldn't put his finger on it. 'We're not safe yet.' He shouldered his bag again. 'Come on. The sooner we get to your sister, the better.'

* * *

An hour or so later, the pair reached a uniform line of trees.

'We're here,' Daegal announced. 'She's just the other side of those trees.'

Merlin went to find the girl, but noticed Daegal hanging back.

'What's wrong?'

Daegal wouldn't meet his eyes. 'Nothing. I just… hope she's still alive.'

Merlin sensed there was more to it than unwillingness to see if his last family was dead, but decided not to push it.

The trees opened onto a small clearing, the far side of which fell away into a steep ditch, some ten feet deep. It was calm and peaceful… and empty.

Merlin dropped his medicine bag onto the grass. 'Why have you brought me here? What is this?' Each question snapped out of him, sharp and icy in the silent copse.

'I can explain –' Daegal began, but Merlin interrupted.

'You're not a druid.' He pulled up the boy's sleeve to show the 'tattoo' fading – the ink was smudged and lightening in colour. He let go. 'Who are you?'

Daegal didn't answer. Merlin was suddenly aware of someone standing behind him. Daegal looked past him and didn't react. Whoever it was, Daegal knew them.

Then Merlin was thrown through the air. The magic was powerful, with an aura he recognised. Once friendly, but now black with rage and hot with hate.

Morgana.

His head hit a tree and the world went black.

* * *

Sunlight trickling in through the trees. A bright spot and dozens of lines shining outward from it. Leaves fluttering in the breeze, making the sunbeams shimmer.

Merlin groaned. His mouth was coated with the bitter taste of poison. There was a crusty feeling on his forehead, and a deep, stinging gash on his leg. He shifted slowly, trying to assess the damage, but then he felt a stabbing pain in his stomach. The poison was making its way through his system, and he had no way to get it out. It was strong, judging from the speed at which his remaining energy was leaving him. Morgana must know he had magic by now – Gwen wouldn't keep something like that to herself. That must be why Daegal brought him here: without his magic protecting Arthur, Gwen would have a clear shot at the throne.

But they didn't count on Mordred being on Merlin's side.

_Arthur's fighting the Sarrum's men._ Almost on cue, Mordred spoke in his mind. _He's trying to prove his worth. And, thought you might want to know – Arthur thinks you're in the tavern. He is definitely going to kill you this time_. There was a pause. _Merlin, are you okay? What's happening?_

Merlin could barely gather the energy to reply. _Morgana poisoned me. She and Gwen are planning something_.

Mordred's voice was panicked. _Where are you?_

_Valley of the Fallen Kings_. Each word was harder to think than the previous one.

_I'm coming to get you._

_No. Stay with Gwen. _

Mordred started to answer, to argue, but Merlin didn't hear. He had already slipped back into unconsciousness.

* * *

The next time he woke, it was dark. He felt better – the poison had been purged from his system. He couldn't really remember how – only little flashes. Daegal sounding scared but determined. Him listing herbs he needed. Daegal cupping his head as he drank a bitter-tasting liquid. Daegal holding him down as he spasmed, his body reacting to the antidote. Heat coursing through his body.

He groaned. His head still hurt, and his leg throbbed, but he pushed himself up onto his elbows to evaluate his surroundings.

Daegal sat on a rock nearby, wringing his hands nervously. When Merlin tried to sit up, he bounded over. 'You're alive!'

Merlin brought one hand up to touch the gash on his forehead. It was mostly healed – just a thin cut now. Magic wasn't just flashy spells and big bursts of energy. Sometimes, it was really fast healing – when poison wasn't in the way.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position and glared at Daegal.

'You have to believe me. I didn't know what Morgana intended.'

'You betrayed me,' Merlin said flatly. No matter that the boy was clearly starving and needed the reward Morgana had surely given him. He'd tried to bring him to his death. 'Do you know what Morgana is planning?'

'No.' Daegal sat on the grass next to Merlin, long legs folding awkwardly. 'I met the Lady Morgana and the Queen only once.'

Well, that confirmed his suspicions: Gwen would make a move soon. 'Please, whatever you know…' Merlin didn't need to try hard to let a note of desperation for his friend leak into his voice.

Daegal wouldn't meet his gaze. 'I think they mean to kill the king.'

Holding the tree next to him for support, Merlin tried to stand. He almost fell, but with the tree's help, he managed to stay upright. His leg still hurt, which would slow him down, but that didn't matter. He had to get back to Camelot. Mordred was powerful, but Morgana wouldn't attack Arthur outright. And with the Sarrum there… well, his views on magic were closer to Uther's than Arthur's. Mordred would be in danger if he were to use magic conspicuously. So Merlin had to get home.

He scanned the ground, picking up a long, sturdy stick that would support his weight. Daegal bent over Merlin's pack, checking for water, so Merlin sent the stick flying round the tree with his magic. It returned to his hand, wobbling madly and almost hitting him in the head as it came back.

So maybe he wasn't fully healed. Normally he had more control over simple spells like that. Whatever.

'What are you doing?' Daegal asked, hurriedly following as Merlin started limping out of the clearing.

'I need to get back to Arthur.' His tone brooked no argument, so Daegal simply helped him up the side of the ditch, lifting him back to his feet as he slipped once or twice.

No sooner had they reached the peak of the ditch than Merlin noticed the flickering glimmer of a fire. Grabbing Daegal's shirt, he pulled him back behind a tree.

'Bandits,' he said. He glanced around, taking in the lay of the land. 'We'll go around the outside. Around that ridge.'

Daegal looked doubtful. 'They'll have lookouts.'

Merlin's voice was like steel. 'We don't have a choice.'

He forged ahead, trying to make as little noise as possible, even with his bad leg and a crutch. His leg hurt much more than he was letting on to Daegal, and he hadn't eaten anything since the previous day – purging the poison from his body had taken a lot of energy that he hadn't replenished. He was weak, and tired, and hungry, which explained why, just as they passed along the ridge above the bandits, Merlin's leg gave out under him and he slipped down the slope, right into the middle of the camp, groaning in pain.

Daegal came hurtling down the ridge after him, though why, Merlin didn't know. Against a group of heavily armed, advancing thugs, he wasn't sure what Daegal thought he could do. Which meant he had to do something himself.

The bandits were closing in, hastily lit torches held aloft.

Merlin made himself stand, biting back another groan. He faced the leader, who had a nasty scar down his cheek. 'If you value your lives, you won't take another step.'

'What are you doing?' Daegal hissed.

'Trust me,' Merlin whispered back.

'Empty your pockets,' the lead bandit barked, brandishing his sword at Merlin.

Daegal's hand drifted to his cloak, but before he could produce the meagre reward Morgana had presumably paid him, Merlin drew the attention back to himself. 'Last chance,' he warned.

The bandits laughed. 'You don't even have a sword!' the leader scoffed.

Merlin simply tilted his head. 'I don't need one.' His tone was strangely bitter, even to his own ears – look where his magic had got him. Surrounded by thugs, far from Arthur, tricked by Morgana through his own willingness to help… all because he had magic. He had magic, and was loyal to Arthur, so he was a threat.

He flicked his hand. The lead bandit went flying through the air, hitting his head. Merlin winced inwardly, his own recently-hit head still throbbing slightly, but given the circumstances, he wasn't too sorry. The other thugs were already running.

Daegal stood behind him, mouth agape. Merlin wouldn't meet his eyes. 'Let's go.'

* * *

Dawn was breaking when Merlin remembered Mordred. He must be frantic – he had to tell him something.

_Hi,_ he thought.

_Merlin! You're alright! Thank goodness. What exactly would you have had me tell Arthur if you died without him knowing where you were? He would have torn the kingdom apart-_

He's got more sense than that, Merlin interrupted him. (He ignored Mordred's sceptical _Does he?) We've got bigger problems_.

He quickly filled the young knight in on what he'd found out. A heavy silence filled Mordred's side of their connection.

_Morgana definitely knows you have magic? And so she tried to kill you to get you away from Arthur? _

_Pretty much._

_That's… not good. _

_Yeah_. Merlin rubbed his hand over his face, trying to keep himself awake. They'd been walking most of the night, but they were still a couple of hours from Camelot – his leg had been slowing them down. _I think Gwen is going to get the Sarrum to kill Arthur. I need you to stay with him. If she tries to make you leave, don't let her. If he's around the Sarrum, shield him. _

_What do you mean, shield him?_

_Thicken the air around him. It makes anything within a few feet of him move more slowly – it might give you an advantage if someone tries to stab him or something._

_I'll try_. Mordred sounded doubtful.

_It's easy. You could practice by shielding Gwaine and getting Leon and Percival to throw stuff at him_. His attempt at levity fell flat as Mordred still felt uneasy. _I believe in you, Mordred._

_Thanks_. Merlin felt the connection shiver. _I need to go. Tell me when you get back_. Then he was gone.

Merlin came back to the present. The mind-conversations were odd like that: he was aware of what was going on around him, but it all seemed muffled, like it was all on the other side of a thick pane of glass. Then when he stopped speaking, he returned to yourself, but everything seemed sharper, brighter, louder, for a moment. He noticed things he hadn't before.

Like Daegal staring at him.

'Are you okay?' the boy asked.

'I'm fine.'

'What were you doing? Just staring into space like that?'

'I was warning someone in Camelot.' Why not tell him? Magic was allowed in Camelot, and word would probably spread soon enough anyway.

'You have magic.' It wasn't a question.

'Yes.' Merlin wasn't sure where this was going – it had been pretty clear when he'd thrown the bandit into the air.

'You're the reason, aren't you?'

Merlin frowned in confusion. 'The reason for what?'

'Why Arthur let magic back into Camelot. It's because of you.'

'I've saved his life too many times to count. But he chose himself.' Merlin shifted his weight, uncomfortable under the intensity of Daegal's gaze, and hissed. His leg wasn't getting any better. It was a much deeper wound that the cut on his head, which was why it wasn't healing as quickly, and all the stress he was putting on it definitely wasn't helping. He sank to the ground, stretching his leg out in front of him.

Daegal crouched next to him. 'You need that treated. It's still too far to Camelot not to.' He paused, gauging Merlin's reaction. 'I can help.'

Merlin scowled at him, about to refuse, but he remembered how the boy had stayed after Morgana had left him for dead. How he'd raced into the bandits' camp to stay with him.

'We need to be quick,' he relented.

'Tell me what to do.'

* * *

Daegal in tow, Merlin raced – well, as much as he could race with an injured but now-bound leg, as well as a crutch – along the corridors of the castle towards the throne room. He'd spoken to Mordred, who'd told him that the signing ceremony was starting. The knight was on high alert, hoping to defend Arthur even if Merlin didn't reach them in time.

Merlin turned a corner that would take them deeper into the castle, but as he did, he heard an odd whistling sound. He turned, scanning for what might be making the noise. He noticed a door that was ever so slightly ajar. Opening it further, he found a tight spiral staircase with an open window looking over the town. That was the source of the noise – the wind through the window whistling through the narrow gap left by the open door.

He was about to shut the door when he noticed the key dropped just over the threshold.

'This should be locked,' he murmured. Then his head jerked up towards the ceiling as he remembered where, exactly, the staircase let out.

'They came through here,' he told Daegal over his shoulder, already climbing the stairs.

_Mordred! Look up! Is there someone on the balcony?_ Merlin hoped the knight was facing the right way – all they needed now was the assassin being tipped off by Mordred craning his head round to see something behind him.

_Yes_, came the startled answer. _Merlin, I don't know–_

_Shield him now! _Merlin ordered. _I believe in you_.

He reached the landing. Daegal on his heels, they turned the corner and saw the assassin crouching by the balcony, looking over the throne room where the ceremony was in full swing. The speeches were over, and the Sarrum was about to sign the treaty.

All this Merlin took in in a second. And a good thing he did, since the assassin noticed them, training his crossbow on them. He pulled the trigger. An arrow shot towards Merlin's face, only to be deflected by his magic. Unperturbed, the assassin drew two throwing knives, hurling them one after the other at them. Daegal and Merlin both dropped to the ground to avoid them.

While they were distracted, the assassin loaded his crossbow again and trained it on Arthur.

_Shield him!_

Getting back to his feet, Merlin noticed the heavy stick he'd been using as a crutch. Praying he'd recovered enough to control his aim, he hurled it with his magic at the assassin.

It hit him squarely in the side just as he pulled the trigger.

'No!' Merlin cried.

He ran to the balcony. The arrow had missed Arthur – its trajectory must have been thrown off by the stick's impact. Instead, it had hit the Sarrum of Amata, who was now sprawled over the treaty, with Arthur and Gaius examining him.

Merlin turned back to the assassin. He probably had a few broken ribs, given the weight of the stick and the force behind it. He must be one of the Sarrum's own men – the heavy leather armour and metal coins decorating it matched those of Arthur's guests. Merlin ripped a strip of cloth from his shirt and quickly bound his hands. He heard Arthur ordering Leon upstairs to find the man who had shot the Sarrum, so left him be.

'We did it,' he sighed in relief. He looked over his shoulder at Daegal, grinning.

Daegal was still slumped on the floor.

His smile faded. Then he noticed the handle sticking out of his abdomen.

His breath caught. Crossing over to him, Merlin crouched down next to him.

'Is Arthur…?' the boy asked.

'He's alive,' Merlin said gently.

'Did I do something good?' Daegal sounded like a small child, searching for reassurance.

'Yes. Yes, you did.' Merlin could barely speak. Daegal's shirt was soaked in blood. Merlin had spent enough time with Gaius to know that once a pool of blood reached a certain size, there was no coming back from it. Daegal had reached that point.

'Finally, eh?' Daegal tried to laugh, but all that came out was a small huff of air. His hands, which had been clasped around the knife, loosened, then fell to his side. His eyes closed, his last expression of relief now made permanent.

Merlin rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, stifling a sob. Leon was coming up the stairs – he could hear his boots against the stone getting closer, followed by at least two others. They would have questions – where had he been, who was the boy, how did Merlin know about the assassin – but that could wait a minute. For now, he drew Daegal's sleeve up to where the fading triskele was still visible. His hands wet with Daegal's blood, Merlin traced over the symbol with his finger, leaving lines of red in its wake. Daegal had died to right his mistakes. He deserved some remembrance of his people – his mother had been a druid, even if he was not.

'You did something great.'

* * *

The next day, at dusk, Merlin and Mordred were in the forest. Arthur was off on a hunt and wouldn't be back for an hour or so, while Gwen stayed in the castle to oversee the preparations for a feast in honour of the new Sarrum. The Amatans would leave in the morning, in mourning for the old Sarrum, but tonight they would celebrate him and welcome their new leader – hence the hunt. With Gwen at home, the two warlocks decided it would be safe enough to have their own ceremony.

Merlin placed a fern on the pile of stones marking Daegal's grave.

'His life had only just begun,' he said. 'He saved my life, and Arthur's. All this death, and yet Gwen comes out of it without a scratch.' He straightened. 'It can't go on.'

'I know, Merlin.' Mordred sounded weary. 'But what can we do? Arthur trusts her with his life, and you and I both know how easy it is showing a Pendragon someone they trust is evil.'

Merlin's face, already grim, became even harder. 'We aren't going to tell him.' He met Mordred's gaze. 'Gwen is.'

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**This one sticks pretty close to the episode - just with more Mordred and a bit of an insight into Merlin's head. The next one should be a lot more interesting (hopefully. I'm still writing it. And hoping for the best tbh).**

**Anyways, if you liked this, leave a review - I love reading them. If you didn't, leave a review anyway - I realy do want to improve. **

**Love,**

**NewtPevensie xoxoxox**


	5. With All My Heart

'You're late.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Is there a problem?'

From where he stood, hidden in the shadows of a huge oak, Merlin could hear the ice in Morgana's voice. Gwen may have been a valuable weapon, but Merlin could tell – even now, Morgana hated her. If Gwen slipped up, Morgana would have no qualms about killing her.

'Nothing I can't handle.' Gwen seemed calm, despite being face to face with the woman who was once her best friend, but now should have been her worst enemy.

'Did you get what I asked for?'

Gwen searched through her cloak, finally producing a thick scroll. 'It wasn't easy.' She handed it to Morgana. 'It details the route the levy will take, the names of the knights, their arms, and the day they depart.'

Morgana gave it a cursory glance, then tucked the scroll away into a pocket. 'You've done well, Gwen.'

The queen smiled, her skin pale in the moonlight. 'How can I further our cause?'

Merlin heard a _snick_ sound and looked to the side, where Arthur had drawn his sword. His king looked as though his world was falling apart. He held an arm out to stop him.

'Morgana's too powerful. Now is not the time.' He spoke as softly as he could – they were close enough to hear Gwen and Morgana speaking, so any louder and the women would be able to hear them, and all would be lost.

'How could she do this?' Arthur sounded distraught, even in a whisper.

'She's not the Gwen you love. She's under Morgana's control.' Merlin needed him to hang on – at least until they returned to the castle. Once they got back, they could plan what to do next. But for now, all they could do was watch. He hated having to show Arthur this, but he wouldn't have believed him otherwise. And Arthur needed to believe him if there was any chance of releasing Gwen.

'If I lose her, I lose everything,' Arthur whispered, so quietly Merlin could barely hear him, only a few feet away.

Merlin's eyes narrowed in determination. He could not bear seeing him like this – so… powerless. 'We'll find a way to bring her back, Arthur. I promise.'

* * *

'Why did I promise to help Gwen?' Sitting at the top of the stairs in Gaius's chambers, Merlin pored over several books at once, skipping between them to check a detail or an image. He peered through the banisters to where Gaius sat, mixing a tincture. 'Is there really no remedy?'

Gaius paused his stirring. 'If Gwen has suffered what I suspect, then no, I fear not.'

Merlin shut the book on his knee with a thud. 'You know what happened to her?'

The physician hesitated. 'When I was young, I heard talk of an ancient ritual called the Tiana Diaga. It used mandrake root to bring unimaginable terror to the victim. When it was finally over, their will was no longer their own. They were slaves of the High Priestesses for eternity.'

Merlin almost tripped in his haste to get down the stairs. 'Was there a way to undo the spell?'

Gaius resumed his stirring, not meeting his eyes. 'Only two people now truly know the old ways. One is Morgana Pendragon. The other is the Dochraid.'

'The Dochraid?' Merlin asked.

'An ancient witch. She speaks for the stones themselves – the earth and the plants. She will surely know how to save Gwen. But be warned, Merlin – she cannot be trusted. She must not know who you truly are.'

* * *

Merlin brushed aside a vine, stepping into a deep cavern. He winced as the sudden movement sent a stab of pain through his shoulder. His hand, stretched out in front of him, was bent and liver-spotted, and he brushed whiskers of his beard out of his mouth.

He hated the ageing potion. But it was the easiest way to disguise himself, even if it took a lot of energy to keep up the charade.

'Who dares enter the sacred cave?'

'I come to petition the Dochraid.' As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Merlin saw an ancient woman, with hair like string in tufts and tangles. She turned to him, and he realised her eyes were stitched shut, but instead of thread, they were sewn with skin.

'Give me your hand.' Her voice was like sand. She sniffed his proffered hand, then thrust it away, growling. 'You are no friend of the Old Religion. No friend of Morgana Pendragon.'

Merlin tried to keep his face impassive. The Dochraid may not be able to see, but he had no doubt that she could sense everything he did. 'Great Dochraid –'

'Silence,' she interrupted. 'I know you, Emrys. Your queen will find no relief here.'

Merlin frowned. 'How do you know why I came?'

'I am the Dochraid,' she rasped. 'The earth speaks to me. You are not welcome here. Depart!'

'Oh, I cannot do that. Not until I have what I came for.' At that, he drew the sword he had borrowed from Arthur. He admired Excalibur's blade, glowing faintly in the gloom. 'This sword was forged in a dragon's breath,' he said conversationally. Then, as if he hadn't just threatened an ancient priestess: 'Tell me what I need to know.'

The Dochraid had shrunk from the blade. 'Your queen is doomed, Emrys. Her spirit has been consumed. Her body is nothing but an empty vessel, filled by the will of another.' She bared her teeth in a horrible approximation of a smile. 'Once she has served her purpose, that too will be cast away.'

He already knew as much, but hearing it confirmed was still awful. Somehow, Merlin stopped his voice from shaking. 'How do I break this spell?'

'Only the greatest of sorcerers could attempt such a thing,' she hissed.

Merlin levelled Excalibur from her. 'How,' he asked flatly.

Eyeing the sword warily, she answered: 'You must travel to the Cauldron of Arianrhod. There you will need all of your powers, for you must summon the white goddess herself.'

'And that is all?' It sounded far too easy.

'No, Emrys. The queen must enter the Cauldron. Its waters hold the goddess's power. But she must enter the water willingly. If she is tricked, forced, or beguiled, she will be lost forever.'

He lowered the sword. 'Thank you, great Dochraid.' His mission accomplished, he turned to leave, but after only a few steps, he heard the priestess chanting. He spun back around, waving the dagger she had thrown at his head away with barely a thought.

The Dochraid cringed away from his power, concealed before, but now radiating from him. He swung his sword, drawing green blood, then returned to his horse, leaving the witch screaming in anger and pain behind him.

* * *

Merlin rapped sharply on the door of the armoury. He heard the bolt sliding back, and the door opened to reveal Arthur, face drawn in worry and fatigue, who ushered him and Gaius into the room.

'Well?' he asked expectantly.

Merlin glanced at Gaius. 'We've found a way to heal her.'

Arthur closed his eyes briefly. 'How?'

'We need to visit the Cauldron of Arianrhod. There, we just need her to walk into the water.' Merlin spoke quickly, trying to hide his own doubts about the endeavour.

'And how, exactly, do you plan on getting Guinevere to the Cauldron? She won't exactly go willingly.' Merlin felt an unwanted rush of happiness at the fact that he and Arthur still thought in the same way, even if it was for something as dire as their current situation.

'With this.' Gaius produced a small, squat vial of amber liquid. 'Tincture of belladonna.'

'What are its effects?' Arthur asked.

'The patient is rendered into a deep sleep,' Gaius explained. 'It lasts for a few hours, but needs to be administered several times a day to provide a continuous sleep.'

'But for no more than three days,' Merlin interjected.

'Or?' Arthur sounded like he didn't really want the answer.

'The body will not tolerate it.' Merlin winced inwardly at how bluntly that had come out. He was spending far too much time reading Gaius's old books – they didn't mince words either.

'Thank you, Merlin.' Arthur's voice was strangely gentle. Merlin didn't want to think about why.

'Three days is time enough to ride to the Cauldron,' Gaius said.

'Any mishap, any unexpected circumstance –' Arthur began.

'There is no reason to suspect that all will not go well,' Gaius countered. When Arthur said nothing, he continued, 'My lord, if we do nothing, Gwen is already taken from you.'

Arthur took a deep breath. 'Merlin?'

Merlin looked up to see him raise an eyebrow, silently asking him what he thought. He fought down the rush of pleasure at the proof that Arthur trusted him, in favour of the awful thing he was about to put his friend through. He nodded.

'She can't just walk into the water. That can't be it.'

Merlin made a face. 'That is the main part. But you're right – there is another part to the ritual. A spell that must be cast.'

Arthur studied Merlin's face. Then he sighed. 'Fine. But you know what you're doing, right?

Merlin avoided looking at Gaius. 'Right.'

* * *

That evening, Arthur arranged a quiet meal with Gwen and Gaius. The latter was to present a new form of medicine he had been working on – if he could perfect it, it could help people avoid developing certain illnesses before they actually got ill. While they were absorbed in Gaius's explanation (complete with diagrams and lists of ingredients), Merlin poured a small amount of belladonna into the wine jug.

Gaius reached a break in his speech. Merlin took the opportunity to offer Gwen some wine.

'Not tonight,' she said, covering her cup with her hand. 'Thanks, Merlin.'

He froze, glancing at Gaius, who glanced at Arthur, who frowned. Merlin tried not to roll his eyes. The only people worse at acting calm under pressure than him were Gaius and Arthur. Gwen was definitely going to notice something was up.

'A toast!' Arthur exclaimed, suddenly sitting bolt upright and grabbing his own goblet. He thrust it at Merlin to fill it.

'My lord?' Gwen asked, moving her hand and gesturing for Merlin to fill her cup.

The three diners raised their cups, Gwen and Gaius looking expectantly at the king.

'A toast to… the queen!' Arthur said brightly. Merlin had to look away. This was a formal toast – it would not be appropriate to laugh at Arthur's expression of pride at his own ability to come up with something vaguely believable.

'Me? What have I done?' Gwen sounded vaguely flattered, but it wouldn't take long for that to turn to suspicion.

'Just being yourself, my lady,' Gaius said, sensing Arthur wouldn't be any more help.

Gwen laughed. 'That's very kind, Gaius, but shouldn't it rather be to Camelot?'

'To Camelot, yes,' Arthur said, raising his goblet higher.

'To Camelot,' Gwen and Gaius chorused. Gwen took a sip of her wine. Merlin set the wine jug on the sideboard.

The three men watched the queen expectantly. She set her cup down, then frowned. 'You haven't eaten, my lord.'

'No, I haven't,' Arthur said slowly.

He'd barely got the words out when Gwen's eyes fluttered shut. She swayed a moment, then slumped towards the table. Merlin darted forward, pushing a loaf of bread in front of her to break her fall.

The first step of their plan was complete, but there was no time to stop and congratulate themselves.

Merlin ran behind the curtain leading to Arthur's bedchamber to bring through the small barrow he'd found a few hours before.

'Are you sure this is safe, Gaius?' Arthur asked.

'You may have to.' Then Arthur saw what Merlin had brought. 'She's still a queen,' he said in exasperation.

If he hadn't been pushing the barrow, he'd have thrown his hands in the air dramatically. 'It's the best I could do.'

Mumbling something uncomplimentary, Arthur lifted Gwen as Merlin took her feet. Together, they laid her on the cart. Merlin laid a sheet over her, making sure she was fully covered.

'You must hurry, sire,' Gaius said.

Arthur chewed his lip, glancing down at his sleeping wife. 'You're sure this is going to work?'

'You'd be amazed how much license old age lends you, sire.' He opened the door. 'We'll meet you at the Darkling Woods.'

Merlin started wheeling the cart towards the door. It took a moment to get the balance right – a sleeping human was certainly not the intended cargo of the barrow. Gwen definitely wobbled.

It hadn't escaped Arthur's notice. 'Merlin, if you drop her…'

'I know, I lose my head.'

'Just so we're clear.'

* * *

'Keep up, boy. Keep up!' Gaius addressed the knights passing them in the hallway as they hurried onwards. 'Honestly, why I keep him is beyond me.'

Merlin thought Gaius was enjoying this a little too much. It wasn't like he didn't normally order him around, but now Gaius seemed to be actively trying to demonstrate that Merlin was an idiot. He was talking significantly louder than normal, and Merlin couldn't remember the last time Gaius had actually called him 'boy'. The faster they got out of the castle, the better.

The knights moved out of sight, and Merlin set the cart down to shake his hands out, before picking it up again and hurrying after Gaius. Gwen was not getting any lighter.

They had almost reached the end of the main corridor without incident, when Gwaine and Mordred came in the door they were aiming for, laughing. They noticed them and their eyes lit up.

'Gaius and Merlin.' Gwaine nodded genially at them. Then he noticed the cart. 'And… a barrow of linen?'

Mordred grinned. 'That's a lot of linen. What's Arthur done now, Merlin? Something unspeakable, I'm sure.' He reached for the sheet.

'Don't touch that!' Gaius exclaimed.

Mordred jumped guiltily.

'Not unless you want to risk an attack of red thrush fever,' Gaius said gravely.

'I've never heard of it,' Gwaine said nervously. Merlin had to resist the urge to laugh. Of course he hadn't heard of it – it didn't exist. But he had to give Gaius credit – he was a better liar than he thought.

'Then you're fortunate indeed. More fortunate than the young man who's just died in these very bedclothes. They have to be burned immediately.'

The two knights wore identical expressions of horror. They looked from Gaius to the cart and back again in perfect unison. If Merlin hadn't been so stressed, it would almost have been funny.

Gaius was still talking. 'The last thing Camelot needs is an outbreak of red thrush fever, is it not?'

'Yes, of course. Sorry.' The relief in Gwaine's voice was palpable. He moved out of the way, letting Merlin and the cart through. Gaius made to follow him, but Gwaine stopped him.

'What is the name of the unfortunate young man? So that I may send something to his family.'

Gaius hesitated. 'Timothy.'

Gwaine nodded, then strode off, glad to be leaving the supposedly contagious body of Timothy behind him. Merlin assumed Mordred had left with him – and a good thing too, because Gwen's arm had just fallen out from under the sheet. That is, until he heard a voice in his head.

_Is that Gwen?_

…_Yup._

_Belladonna?_

_Yup._

_You have a plan?_

_In theory._

_Good luck._

_Yup._

* * *

They reached the mountains within a day. Each peak loomed above them, like shards of rock stabbed through the ground, waiting for a single false move to strike them down.

Merlin pointed at one that somehow looked darker, more threatening than the others. 'We're heading for the westernmost peak.'

Arthur sighed. 'That would be the highest?'

Merlin smiled grimly. 'Always is, isn't it?'

Arthur shook his head, nudging his horse forward, one hand on Gwen's back to hold her in place in front of him.

'Wait.' Merlin spoke almost before he knew why. He would have sworn he heard something. He looked around carefully, taking in the piles of rocks and rubble surrounding them. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. 'We're being watched.'

Arthur's gaze swept their surroundings. 'One of your funny feelings again?' For once, he sounded vaguely serious.

Merlin nodded.

'That's alright, then,' Arthur said, though his wary eyes betrayed the fact that their normal joke possibly wasn't as funny as normal.

They'd only gone a few more steps when Arthur stopped them again. 'Tether the horses here – it'll be quicker on foot.'

Merlin frowned. 'What about the supplies?'

'You'll manage.'

They both dismounted. Merlin looked at the pile of bags tied to his horse in dismay. 'I can't take it all.'

'I'll be carrying Guinevere,' Arthur pointed out.

'She's half the weight of that lot,' Merlin protested.

Arthur somehow managed to convey both pretend offence and real concern. 'Are you suggesting that I risk the safety of the queen and carry even more?'

Merlin gave Arthur an unimpressed glare. Then, returning his attention to the bags, he murmured to himself: 'I wonder…'

He untied the packs, dumping them all on the ground. Having tied up the horses, he opened the one that seemed the emptiest. Then, one at a time, he packed the others into it, each time imagining that it had just enough space to fit the next bag. By the end, they were all tucked into the first on, which was barely any heavier than it had been in the first place. Merlin slung it over his shoulder and sauntered past a stunned Arthur.

'Come on, my lord!' he called cheekily. 'Your wife awaits!'

They followed the path winding through the mountains. It clung to the sheer cliffs, in some places wide enough for them both to walk together, in others only just enough space to go one at a time.

They were walking next to a particularly sheer drop when Arthur spoke again.

'Those funny feelings of yours…'

'They're not funny,' Merlin interrupted.

'Stupid, then.' If he wasn't so stressed, Merlin knew Arthur would be smiling. 'Where do they come from, do you think?'

'Magic, I'd suspect.'

Merlin's flippant answer caught Arthur off guard. 'Ah. Right. I suppose.'

Merlin made a face at himself. On the one hand, they apparently weren't at the point where Arthur could joke about his magic yet. On the other hand, they would never get to that point if Merlin didn't joke about it himself. But he didn't want to make Arthur –

His foot slipped on a loose stone and he fell, hitting his head as he reached the ground. Just before he lost consciousness, he heard Arthur screaming his name. then everything went black.

* * *

When he woke, it was twilight. Somehow, Arthur had got him back up to the path and onto a flat outcropping of rock. A purple blur lay next to him – Gwen. But no Arthur. Merlin groaned and sat up.

'Merlin!' Arthur's relieved face came into view as Merlin blinked, trying to bring his sight into focus. He frowned – something was still off. For some reason, he could still see two people. Then the other resolved itself into someone else.

'Mordred?'

The young knight smiled sheepishly. 'Hi.'

'What are you doing here?' Merlin was still woozy, but he was fairly sure he hadn't asked Mordred to come along.

Mordred shifted uneasily, as if apprehensive of Merlin's reaction. 'I thought you might need some help. If Morgana heard you were travelling this way, she might follow. She won't give up her weapon at Camelot's heart so easily.'

Merlin smiled. 'I certainly can't fault you for that. And is it to you I owe thanks? I don't think Arthur could have got me back up here himself.'

'We need to find somewhere to camp for the night,' Arthur interrupted, eager to end the conversation.

_Later_, Mordred promised in Merlin's head.

_I'll hold you to that_, Merlin answered, accepting his proffered hand to help him up.

They made camp in a dip in the mountain, hidden from view. Mordred lit a fire as Merlin prepared food. Arthur laid Gwen down, covering her with a cloak to keep her warm, and joined the others by the fire.

'I'm sorry I didn't confide in you,' Arthur said.

'It's best you didn't,' Mordred replied. 'If I hadn't had my suspicions, I wouldn't have followed you.' He grinned. 'Merlin was acting strangely.'

'Is that so unusual?' Arthur quipped.

'And the levy route was changed,' Mordred continued. 'You hate deciding those routes – why would you bother finding a new one if there wasn't something seriously wrong?'

Arthur couldn't hide his soft smile. 'You had a funny feeling.' The affection in his eyes was clear. Merlin was filled with a warm rush – maybe they were closer to joking about magic than he thought.

'My lord?' Mordred smirked at Merlin – apparently he could read Merlin's face as well as Merlin could read Arthur's.

Arthur shook his head. 'It's good to have you with us. Three's always better than two – isn't that right, Merlin?'

'Of course.' His smile at Mordred was genuine. His gaze then slid past the knight to fall on Gwen, sleeping peacefully. He made to get up. 'It's time.'

Arthur stood. 'I'll do it.'

Merlin passed him the vial of belladonna. 'Two drops,' he reminded him.

Mordred watched him go, then came and sat next to Merlin. 'Do you really think you can do this?' he asked quietly.

Merlin shrugged. 'I don't have a choice. Without Gwen, Arthur is reckless. I can only rein him in so much.'

'I can see that. You fall off a mountain and ten seconds later he leaps off himself.'

Merlin stared at him. 'He _what_?'

Mordred laughed. 'Oh, of course – you didn't see him. By the time I reached you, he'd already tried to climb down to get you, but he slipped and got his arm stuck. I levitated the rock off him, threw down a rope for him to climb up, then levitated you up to join us. Not particularly dignified, but still,' he shrugged. 'A knight has to impress his king somehow.'

Merlin caught his mischievous look and suddenly remembered just how young Mordred was – barely out of his teens. He chuckled. 'So we were both messing with Arthur today?'

Mordred raised an eyebrow. 'What did you do?'

'I may have packed all the bags into one when Arthur said I had to carry them all myself.'

Mordred's eyes widened. 'That was you messing around? Merlin! That's some serious magic. Some druids never manage that spell. And you used it to mess with Arthur?' He shook his head. 'You're going to be fine tomorrow.'

'Really? I just… imagined it.' Merlin felt a pang of something he couldn't name right away. But then it came to him: envy. He wouldn't give Gaius up for anything, but sometimes he thought it would be nice to have someone else who understood what having magic was like. Who could tell him what was normal, what was different. Then he realised: Mordred could be that person.

'What is it?' Merlin realised he had been staring into space as Mordred looked at him oddly.

'Nothing, I'm just… I'm glad you're here.'

Mordred smiled at him shyly. 'Me too.'

* * *

By noon the next day, they had reached a gorge, the ground covered in scree that made Merlin worry he would slip and twist his ankle. They walked one at a time, Merlin leading the way, following Gaius's directions.

'How much further?' Arthur asked, slightly breathless. He'd been carrying Gwen all morning, and despite several rests, Merlin knew he must be tiring.

'Not far,' he assured him. 'This gorge leads to the Cauldron.'

He'd hardly finished speaking when they heard a screech, echoing through the gorge. Merlin looked up, trying to find its source. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something small and white flying straight for them.

'Duck!' he yelled. All three crouched, taking whatever cover they could find. Merlin covered his head as the dragon blew a stream of fire, then flew off.

Arthur stood, wavering under Gwen's weight, but broke into a stumbling run to get her to safety. Mordred pointed out a small ruin a few hundred metres ahead – an old waystation for travellers, maybe – and Arthur headed for it, Mordred drawing his sword as he covered their retreat. Merlin followed, but most of his attention was on trying to track the creature's path. It was Morgana's dragon – the last in the world, apart from Kilgarrah. Wherever Morgana was, the dragon followed.

He reached the ruin, ducking inside after the others. 'Morgana must be close. You go, I'll distract it.'

'No.' Arthur's voice was flat. 'You're not fighting a dragon yourself.'

'You must,' Merlin insisted, shoving his pack at Mordred.

Arthur was having none of it. 'You're the only one who can perform the spell.'

'Arthur,' Mordred cried, as the dragon came back into view, screaming like a banshee. 'Get Gwen to safety. We'll cover you.'

Arthur hesitated. 'Very well,' he said reluctantly. He waited until the dragon cleared the ruin, then ran, Gwen in his arms.

Merlin turned to Mordred. 'Stay here. I'll divert it.'

He was a foot out of the door when Mordred grabbed his arm. 'Merlin, you can't.'

'I know what I'm doing.' He pulled his arm from the knight's grasp and stepped onto the path. The dragon – Aithusa, he remembered – was bearing down on him, screeching, but he stared it down. He stalked towards it, chanting in the Dragon tongue, telling it firmly to _Go Away_. Aithusa flapped his wings, slowing down in confusion. He eyed Merlin warily, then turned and flew back the way he had come.

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief, but he couldn't relax. He ran back to Mordred in the ruin.

'What happened?' Mordred was beside himself.

'Come on.'

'The dragon?' The knight apparently would not leave without an answer.

'My father was a Dragonlord – and so am I,' Merlin said shortly.

Despite the literal dragon attack that had just been averted, Mordred stopped short. 'Seriously? Is there anything you can't do?'

Merlin thought for a second. 'I can't bake?'

Mordred shook his head. 'We need to move.'

'That's what I've been saying!' Merlin checked the path outside the ruin, in case the dragon had come back, and they set off. But they'd only gone five paces when they were both thrown to the ground.

Morgana.

Merlin could feel her magic around them. He was winded, but pushed himself to his knees, looking for Mordred. He was out cold.

Merlin felt awful, but he stood and ran after Arthur. If Morgana was around, one of them had to be with their king. Mordred would understand – if he were awake, he would have told Merlin to go. Out of the two of them, Mordred stood a better chance of surviving a meeting with Morgana.

Merlin hurtled down the path, searching wildly for any sign of Arthur. Finally he noticed red fabric peeking out from behind a pile of rocks. He flung himself behind them.

'Merlin!' Arthur looked past him. 'Where's Mordred?'

Merlin shook his head, panting. He instantly regretting the bluntness of his answer when Arthur tied to push past him.

He held his arm out, blocking his path. 'No, Arthur.'

'I won't leave a knight behind.'

Merlin met his gaze. 'I sensed Morgana.'

The shock on Arthur's face gave way to fear. 'Mordred…'

'Mordred's given us a chance. We can't throw it away.'

Merlin could tell Arthur wanted to argue, but instead, he picked up Gwen and followed Merlin out from the rocks.

* * *

The pair finally reached the Cauldron, the afternoon sun bright. The pool glittered in the sunlight as Arthur laid Gwen down on the sand.

'It's just as Gaius described,' Merlin said, marvelling. The green-blue water stretched away before them, surrounded on all sides by crags and cliffs of rock, apart from the narrow gap behind them where the path ran.

Arthur didn't seem impressed. 'We don't have much time. Guinevere will wake any moment now. Can you do the spell?'

'I –' Merlin began, but was interrupted – and not by Arthur.

_I'm on my way_. Even in his head, Mordred sounded breathless – he must be running in all that armour. Merlin rarely got given armour, even on official missions (as opposed to when he and Arthur snuck off in secret), but he rarely complained. The protection it afforded didn't outweigh Merlin's preference for being able to run fast.

He breathed a sigh of relief. 'Mordred's coming,' he told Arthur. 'We should wait – I might need him.'

Arthur hesitated, glancing at Gwen worriedly, but nodded anyway.

_We'll wait for you_, Merlin told Mordred.

_I won't be long_, the knight promised. _I didn't stick around once I knocked Morgana out._

_You what?_

_Well, I blasted her with my magic and she hit her head. That counts, right?_

Merlin shook his head in disbelief. _Yes, that counts. But she just let you blast her? How are you even still alive?_

_She wanted to know where Emrys was and thought I might know. Don't worry, I didn't tell her, _he hurried to add._ But I do have some bad news. _

_What?_ Merlin asked warily.

_She knows you have magic. _

_Ah._ Merlin stopped short. _That's… not good. I mean, I assumed she knew – Gwen would have told her. But still. Not good. _

_Not really. Though she doesn't know that Arthur knows about either of us. She thinks he allowed sorcery back into Camelot because he is weak, fickle. _

Merlin's eyebrows shot up. _That's good, I suppose. If she doesn't suspect Arthur knows, she won't expect us to do magic anywhere near him. It's not a big advantage, but it's something._ He shivered. _She's already tried to kill me so often, just because I would do anything for Arthur. What might she try now?_

Mordred was silent, trying to think of something comforting. _At least we're expecting it?_

Merlin huffed a laugh. _I suppose_. He glanced back at Arthur, who sat beside Gwen, stroking her hand with his thumb. _How much longer?_

'Not much,' Mordred said, jogging onto the beach.

Arthur looked up, delighted. He stood. 'I thought we'd lost you.'

Mordred clasped his proffered arm. 'So did I.'

'How did you escape Morgana?' Arthur's face was intense. Any possible advantage they could find over her would bring him a much-needed breath of air.

Mordred winced. 'She wasn't expecting me to attack her. She was out cold when I left.'

Arthur nodded slowly, his eyes dark. He turned back to Gwen. 'Merlin, we need to do the spell now. I can't stand the thought of her…' he trailed off.

Merlin didn't need him to finish. He understood well enough.

'Then hurry. Before she wakes.' He directed Arthur to set her by the pool, warning him as he did so. 'The magic which has ensnared her is strong. It can be fought, even broken. But it may also prevail.'

Arthur crouched next to his wife, the pain in his eyes clear. 'I know.'

'What we attempt will not be easy. If we fail, Gwen will be lost forever.'

Arthur bit his lip. 'I understand.'

'Very well.' Merlin knelt next to Gwen, across from Arthur. 'When I wake her, Gwen must walk into the Cauldron of her own will. Only then will the enchantment be broken. But be warned: all the magic that binds her will fight against it.'

'How then can we succeed?' Arthur's face was drawn. It wasn't until then that Merlin noticed how tired he was. All these battles, all this suspicion, yet this fear for his wife had taken the greatest toll on him.

'You must reach her, Arthur. Reach that part of her which has remained untouched by Morgana.'

'Is there such a part?'

Merlin met his gaze steadily. 'You must believe there is.' He placed his hand on Gwen's forehead. 'Get ready. When she wakes, you will have but a few moments.'

Arthur nodded. Merlin spared a single glance for Mordred, standing silently between Gwen and the path in case she tried to run, then concentrated. His eyes burned gold, and Gwen's eyes fluttered open.

Merlin stood and stepped back, giving Arthur space.

Gwen rubbed her eyes sleepily, then bolted upright, suddenly realising she wasn't in Camelot. Her breathing sped up as she took in her surroundings. She saw Arthur sitting next to her, and Merlin standing back.

'Where am I? What have you done to me?'

'You've been asleep for a long time,' Arthur said gently, speaking as though to a spooked animal. He stretched out a hand, going to touch her arm, but she stood abruptly and tried to run for the path. Mordred stepped neatly into her path, making her pause just long enough for Arthur to catch up to her.

'Guinevere –'

'Get away from me!' Her words rang out harshly across the Cauldron.

Arthur caught her arm. 'My Guinevere.'

Gwen struggled, but stilled as his words registered. 'Your Guinevere? You stupid, foolish man. I was never yours, and never will be.' She tried to pull her arm away, but he held firm.

Merlin hated the look on Arthur's face that her words had caused – as if each one was a slap. 'You must reach her, Arthur. Reach out or all is lost.'

Gwen glared at him. 'Why are you here? You're nothing but a servant. Why Arthur keeps you around, I will never understand.'

'You loved me once.' Arthur's voice was quiet, but insistent enough to pull her attention back to him.

'You're easily fooled,' Gwen sneered.

'And still do,' he continued, as if she hadn't spoken.

'It was a trick. Nothing more. A subterfuge to pass Camelot to its rightful queen.' Her face twisted into something wickedly gleeful – Morgana had apparently passed on her love for causing pain.

'I don't believe that,' Arthur said. As they spoke, he started leading her slowly towards the pool.

'Believe what you like.' They were nearing the water's edge.

'Arthur, it must be of her own will.' Merlin wouldn't risk Arthur doing something brash – not when they were so close.

Arthur glanced back at Merlin. Something he saw must have triggered an idea, because he pulled Gwen in closer. She struggled, but he held her tight.

'Look at me.' He spoke gently, just to her. 'Tell me you don't love me.'

'Let me go!' Gwen shrieked.

'Arthur…' Merlin warned. Whatever he was doing, he had to be careful. If Gwen fell in trying to get away – he didn't want to know which side of the Cauldron's rules that would fall on.

'Do you remember when I asked you to marry me? Do you remember what you said?' Arthur's eyes were intense, his voice earnest. Every line in his body said the same thing: _listen to me_.

Gwen just glared at him.

'You said, "with all my heart." That's what you said, Guinevere. That was no subterfuge, no trickery.'

There was no anger on Gwen's face now; only confusion. She looked lost, like a child. Arthur let go of her, stepping back. She stumbled a step, no longer supported by his arms.

'With all my heart,' Arthur repeated. He walked slowly backwards, into the Cauldron, water sloshing over first his feet, then up to his ankles, his knees. 'With all my heart.'

He held out his hand.

Merlin held his breath.

'With all my heart.' Not Arthur speaking this time, but Gwen, wearing an infinitely sad expression. She took a step towards him. Another. Like a sleepwalker, she went to meet him, not breaking eye contact for a second.

She stepped into the water. Her dress was soaked through instantly, but she paid it no mind. She took Arthur's hand, and he guided her further into the pool as gently as into a ballroom. Once Arthur was waist-deep in water, Merlin began chanting.

Arthur let go of Gwen's hand, but still she waded deeper into the water. When it came up to her shoulders, Merlin uttered the final words of the spell. His eyes flashed gold – and Gwen began to glow.

He shielded his eyes. It wasn't just Gwen that was glowing. The entire Cauldron was lit with some kind of internal fire, turning the water gold. There was a final sigh, and the light cleared, leaving Gwen standing in the middle of the pool.

She turned slowly, back to Arthur, and a smile crossed her face: a real, genuine, _Gwen_ smile that until that moment Merlin hadn't realised he missed. She held her hand out to Arthur, as he had to her, and instantly he was wading towards her. He gathered her up in his arms, holding her close as she clung to him like a raft in a storm.

Merlin gasped in relief, staggering back a step or two as his body tried to compensate for the massive amount of energy he'd just expended. A moment later, he felt someone at his side – Mordred. He stood close, ready to catch him if he fell.

'You did it,' he said quietly. 'Relax.'

Merlin nodded slowly. Gwen was no longer a threat to Arthur. Now, he could rest.

* * *

'Thank you, Merlin,' Gwen said. She and Arthur had got out of the Cauldron, soaking wet, and were now standing next to Mordred, who had dried them off quickly with a gentle blast of heat. Gwen had been sworn to secrecy about Mordred's magic – the fact that Arthur knew was still one of the only advantages they had over Morgana, and they didn't want to risk it getting out.

'Don't worry about it,' Merlin said. The delight on Arthur's face every time he looked at Gwen was thanks enough.

'Seriously, Merlin.' Arthur's voice was gentle. 'Thank you.'

Merlin allowed himself a small smile. 'Does this mean I can get the afternoon off?'

Arthur raised an eyebrow. 'Maybe even a whole day.'

Merlin grinned, then glanced at the sky, already turning red. 'We need to head back. The longer we're away, the more questions will be asked.'

They walked back to where Merlin had tethered the horses. On the way, Arthur barely let go of Gwen's hand as they walked together, talking quietly. Mordred fell back to speak to Merlin.

'Arthur's a lucky man.' Merlin wasn't sure what to make of the sly smile playing around the young knight's lips.

'Yes – Gwen is a great queen.'

'Not just to have Gwen, but to have you.'

Merlin went red. 'I'm just helping my friends.'

Mordred looked at him sceptically. 'Right.'

Desperate to change the subject, Merlin blurted out, 'I'm really glad Arthur knows about my magic.'

'Why?'

Merlin scrambled for a sensible answer. 'Can you imagine how difficult that would have been if he hadn't?'

Mordred chuckled. 'I don't even know how that would have been possible.'

Merlin grinned. 'Gaius would probably have told him to find a sorcerer and made me dress up as them.'

'But Arthur's already seen the older version of you – the one you call Emrys. He would never have let you near Gwen like that.'

'Maybe Gaius would have come up with someone else – a woman, maybe?'

At that, Mordred threw back his head and laughed. Arthur and Gwen turned at the sound, but were too wrapped up in each other to ask.

Mordred slung an arm around Merlin's shoulders. 'You know, I'm almost sorry we missed out on that. Can you imagine Arthur trying to deal with an eccentric witch without your help?'

Merlin snorted. 'He'd probably have tried to pay her in clothes or something.'

They were still snickering when they reached the horses.

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**This is a longer chapter than usual, so the next one might be a bit later, especially because classes start again tomorrow. I will try to be on time, but basically I'm not making any promises. **

**Hope you enjoyed this! As ever, if you did, leave a review - I love reading them! If you didn't, leave a review anyway - I really do want to improve. **

**Love, **

**NewtPevensie xoxoxox**


	6. The Kindness of Strangers

There were days when Merlin just wanted to get out of the castle. To go for a walk without having to be back when Arthur called for him, or when Gaius needed him to run an errand.

Going on another romantic picnic with his king and queen was not what he intended.

'This really is the most perfect spot, is it not?' Arthur said, gesturing at the picturesque scenery. He swung his leg over his horse and dropped to the ground.

'It is, my lord,' Gwen agreed, smiling. Merlin looked away as Arthur lifted her off her horse, the happiness on their faces so intense he felt they needed the privacy.

Arthur returned to his own horse and was fiddling with the bridle while gazing out over the vista. 'I sometimes forget how beautiful Camelot is.' He glanced shyly back at Gwen. 'But never how beautiful my queen is.'

Gwen laughed, the bright sound not quite covering Merlin's snort.

'Was that you, Merlin?' Arthur's voice was sharp, but not in the way that Merlin knew meant he was actually in trouble.

'It was the horse.' Merlin tried to sound as innocent as possible. Judging by Arthur's expression, he was failing.

Arthur strode towards him. 'Because if you were mocking your king…'

'I wasn't. I wouldn't!' The false innocence was off the charts now.

'Because there's a special punishment reserved for such impudence.'

The pair stared at each other. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin could see Gwen grinning. Then he noticed the corner of Arthur's mouth twitching, and servant and king both burst out laughing. Gwen joined in, their laughter reminiscent of old times, when they were four, not three, of when they had fewer worries, fewer fears.

Arthur clapped him on the shoulder and turned back to his wife. 'How about here, Guinevere?'

'Yes, it looks perfect.'

'Then here it shall be,' Arthur said with an exaggerated bow.

Merlin rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide his smile as he brought over the picnic blanket he'd untied from his horse.

Gwen gestured at the ground. 'Here?'

Merlin unfolded the blanket. 'I haven't seen him this happy in a long time,' he said quietly. Arthur was still trying to untie something from his own horse, far enough away not to hear.

'Yes,' Gwen said thoughtfully. 'He has changed, hasn't he?' She gazed over at her husband.

'Yeah. Yeah, I think he has.'

Merlin was immediately proved wrong as Arthur managed to untie his water gourd and threw it at him with no warning, hitting him in the shoulder.

'Sorry!' he called, not sounding sorry at all. 'Fill that up, will you, Merlin?'

Merlin raised an eyebrow at Gwen. 'Or not.'

Gwen laughed.

'And this one too, ready?' Arthur threw the second gourd, this time missing Merlin completely. It landed a few feet past him, by the foot of a tree.

'Sire.' Merlin stood, exchanging a fond but mildly exasperated look with Gwen, then went to fetch the gourd before Arthur decided to throw something else. Though, if he did, Merlin mused, he could always shield with his magic. Or make it fly back at him. Or –

'I think my dog can catch better than you,' Arthur said in mock seriousness.

'Possibly because you treat him better.' Merlin bent to pick up the gourd, missing the affectionate expression that crossed Arthur's face. He was about to join Gwen in unpacking the picnic when he noticed something gleaming in the dirt.

'What is it?' Arthur asked, frowning.

Merlin squatted down in front of the tree. He dug around for a second, then pulled a large gold coin from the earth. He tucked it in his pocket to inspect later, but then noticed three deep parallel gouges in the tree in front of him. He traced one of them, then another. The three lined up with his fingers, and if someone had slashed magic down the trunk.

'Something happened here,' he said.

Arthur came up behind him, giving the tree a cursory glance. 'It's stags marking their territory.'

'No. This was caused by magic.'

Arthur raised an eyebrow. 'Merlin, who knows more about hunting, me or you?'

'Who knows more about magic?' Merlin retaliated, standing up.

Arthur looked surprised at Merlin's bluntness, but regained control quickly. 'It's rutting season. Half the trees in the forest look like that.' He knelt down next to Gwen. 'Come on. Your king awaits.'

Merlin bowed dramatically. 'My lord.'

Arthur threw a rock at him. This time, Merlin shielded himself with his magic, watching in glee as the rock appeared to bounce off thin air and hit Arthur in the arm. Merlin turned and ran, howling with laughter. When he risked a glance backwards, Arthur was hot on his heels, Gwen's laughter following them.

* * *

On the way home, Merlin kept taking the coin out of his pocket to inspect it. It had an elaborate cross carved into the centre, and concentric circles spinning around it. At one point, it slipped from his fingers and when he stopped to dismount, he had to tell Arthur his shoe had fallen off.

After Arthur had dismissed him for the night, Merlin showed the coin to Gaius. If anyone would be able to discern the strange markings inscribed on it, it would be the physician.

'The workmanship is unmistakeable.' Gaius brushed his thumb over the coin. 'See how the pattern repeats in each circle? It's made in Helva.'

'Helva? The city Morgana attacked last night?'

'The very same. It's a fine piece,' Gaius said. 'No one would part with it willingly. Perhaps one of the refugees dropped it.'

Merlin hummed noncommittally. 'Perhaps.' He picked up the coin and slipped it back in his pocket. Going through to his room, he gathered the few things he would need for a nocturnal excursion.

'What are you up to?' Gaius asked through the door.

'I'm going back to where I found it.'

'I doubt if the owner will still be there.'

'Something happened there, Gaius. Something only the strongest magic could do. I could feel it.'

'You're not suggesting that Morgana's within Camelot's borders?' Gaius sounded appalled.

'Who else could it be?' Merlin tied his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

'Don't go, Merlin. Not on your own.'

'I'll be fine.' He came down the stairs, ducking under the doorframe with the ease of the long-practiced.

'Take someone with you, at least,' Gaius implored. 'If it is Morgana –'

'Then it won't make any difference who I take, will it?'

Gaius thought for a second. 'You could take Mordred?'

Merlin paused. Gaius was right – Mordred was the only other person who might stand a chance against Morgana. And even if Morgana wasn't there… well, he'd appreciate the company, if nothing else.

'Alright,' he relented. 'Mordred.'

Something in Gaius's posture relaxed. 'Thank you, Merlin.'

Merlin nodded goodbye, already sending Mordred a message.

_Meet me at the gate in ten minutes._

* * *

The two warlocks rode through the forest, Merlin leading the way, Mordred following, confused but trusting. The low-lying mist clung to their skin, chilling them to the bone in the sharp cold of the night.

When they reached the tree Merlin had noticed earlier, he dismounted. He crouched in front of it, tracing the gouges again. Whoever had made these marks had been powerful – he could tell from the depth and length of the scars in the bark, made from a triple slash of energy following the movement of the warlock's hand.

Merlin leaned round the tree, trying to discern any similar markings on other trees in the vicinity. Instead, he noticed a scrap of rough fabric caught on a branch. He plucked it from the tree.

'What is it?' Mordred asked from his horse.

'I'm not sure,' Merlin murmured. He focused on the piece of cloth, imagining a thread tying it to the last place its owner had been. His eyes flashed. The mist around them thickened – no, not thickened. Moved. The mist split into two separate sections, coalescing on either side of a suddenly clear path through the forest.

Merlin half-smiled at Mordred's impressed look as he swung himself back onto his horse.

'Not far, I think.' He steered his horse down the path.

Mordred followed him in silence for a moment. 'What are we looking for, exactly?'

'I'm not sure,' Merlin admitted. 'I just have a feeling. Something happened there – it didn't feel like Morgana, but if she's here…' he trailed off.

'You want to know before she attacks Camelot,' Mordred finished for him.

'Exactly.'

They continued down the path, the mist parting before them. After half an hour or so, Merlin held up a hand. He dismounted, but gestured at Mordred to stay.

Handing him his reins, he said: 'There's something just through those trees.' He pointed. 'I don't want the horses to spook in the dark and leave us to walk back. I won't be long.'

Mordred bit his lip. 'Be careful.'

Merlin quirked an eyebrow. 'When am I not?'

He walked through the trees, keeping his gaze downcast to watch for any roots he might trip over. After a minute, he remembered there was an easier way to do that than by straining his eyes in the dark. He picked up a rock that fit in his palm, and enchanted it to glow softly, giving him enough light to see by, but not enough to attract attention.

After another couple of minutes, he felt a tug in his mind that told him _here, stop_. He raised the stone higher, taking in his surroundings.

There wasn't much there. A small camp had been made – left recently, if the still-warm embers of the fire was anything to go by. A tent had been erected – a red piece of cloth strung between two trees, tied down against the wind.

The only thing odd about the camp was a woven bowl on its side, the contents spilling out. Merlin squatted down. The bowl had apparently held a letter of some kind, but it had been ripped to pieces. The torn fragments of parchment were covered in small, cramped writing, but not in any language Merlin could decipher. Gaius might be able to read it, but only if there were enough pieces left.

He scooped as many scraps as he could back into the bowl, which he covered with a large leaf and sealed with magic. Carrying it back carefully with his frozen fingers, he returned to where Mordred was waiting.

'Well?' Mordred asked.

'I'm not sure. Someone was there, but it didn't feel threatening. More like… like they were running.'

Both lost in thought, they rode back in silence.

* * *

'Can you decipher it?'

Merlin watched as Gaius tried to piece the scraps of parchment back together. He would have helped, but he was still frozen. He was wrapped in a blanket and held a hot drink between his hands, trying to leech the warmth from it to regain some feeling in his fingers.

Gaius produced a magnifying glass and was scrutinising what he had repaired. It seemed that Merlin had found most of the pieces – only the name of the recipient was missing.

'It's in Catha, that's for sure.'

Merlin leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees. 'What does it say?'

'It's so long since I've heard the language, never mind read it,' Gaius hedged. He scanned it again, then pointed. 'There's part of a signature here.' He passed the magnifying glass over it, deciphering each letter, then sat back, his face slack.

Merlin was out of his chair instantly, drink forgotten on the bench. 'What is it?' he asked sharply.

'Alator,' Gaius said, stricken. 'That's why Morgana attacked Helva. Alator was the prize she was after.'

Merlin had to think for a second to place the name, but when he did, he understood Gaius's fear. Alator the Catha was a powerful sorcerer whom Morgana had paid to torture Gaius, asking after Emrys's whereabouts. Gaius had finally cracked, but when Alator had found out who Emrys was, and what he wanted to do, he had refused to tell Morgana, instead buying Merlin and Arthur time to save Gaius.

'But why risk so much for one man?' Merlin sat back in his chair, wrapping the blanket around himself again.

'It can only be one reason,' Gaius said sombrely. 'To have him reveal who Emrys is.'

Merlin shook his head. 'Alator would never betray me.'

'Not willingly. But Morgana will use every power she has to break him. Even the Catha cannot resist forever.'

* * *

Merlin did not want to be awake.

It wasn't any earlier than usual, and it wasn't as though he didn't spend a fair few of his nights awake and wandering through the forest, but today, he just didn't want to be awake yet.

When he reached Arthur's rooms, he was still trying to rub the sleep from his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up properly.

Slipping through the door silently, he made his way to the red curtains around Arthur's bed. He drew one aside, but Arthur appeared in front of him, closing them again, leaving a gap for him to see Merlin through.

'Shhh!' Arthur hissed. He glanced behind him. Merlin followed his line of sight to see Gwen sleeping peacefully.

'What are you doing?' Merlin asked.

'I'm going to surprise her – breakfast in bed,' Arthur said, a soft smile spreading across his face.

'Oh.' Merlin smiled. Maybe he could snatch another half-hour of sleep before his other duties. 'What a lovely thought.' He closed the curtains in front of Arthur and headed for the door, in his mind already back in bed.

His imagination was disturbed by the sound of the curtains being drawn back again. 'Where are you going?'

Merlin frowned. 'You don't need me, do you?'

Arthur looked affronted. 'I can't very well go and get the breakfast, can I? What if she wakes up and… panics?' he finished lamely.

'Panics.'

Arthur huffed. 'Just go and get it, alright?' With that, he closed the curtains again.

Merlin sighed, the thoughts of a nap dissipating like smoke. He'd barely taken another step before the curtains opened again.

'What now?'

'Flowers – don't forget the flowers!'

'Of course – the personal touch. Nice.' Merlin tried to suffuse his voice with as much sarcasm as possible. Judging by the glare Arthur shot his way, he succeeded.

Twenty minutes later, he was gathering flowers from just outside the palace walls. The brisk air was doing a great job waking him up, even if he still wasn't impressed by the start to his day. He had gathered a fair bunch of flowers when he heard someone shouting faintly. He looked up, trying to discern what was happening. Through the trees, he saw a red cloak flapping in the wind. He shook his head. Probably just a hunting party setting off.

He turned, trying to find a few more flowers before heading back, but instead came face to face with a woman who definitely had not been there before.

He jumped back, flowers scattering around his feet, taking in her calm face, her blue hood and cloak, the graceful if slightly stiff way she moved. Nothing in him told him to run, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was strange about this woman.

'Be still,' she said, stepping towards him. She held out a hand as though to calm a spooked animal, revealing a cross tattooed on her wrist. 'The great battle is nearing. You must listen to me, Emrys.'

Merlin took another step back. 'How do you know my name?'

'Arthur's enemies are closer than you think. I would have spoken with you last night, but the dark knight was with you. If you value your king, meet me tonight at the old temple of Erui. Come alone. Or not at all.'

Merlin heard the clip-clop of horses approaching, and he twisted to check they were out of sight.

By the time he turned around again, the woman was gone.

When he returned to Arthur's rooms, Arthur appeared through the curtains to take the tray of food from him. The king stole a grape, then frowned.

'Merlin?'

'Yeah?'

'Where are the flowers?'

Merlin made a face, but was saved from answering as they both heard Gwen yawn. Arthur gestured at him, telling him in no uncertain terms to get out, before ducking through the gap in the curtains with the tray.

'Good morning,' Merlin heard him say.

'That is so sweet,' Gwen said.

'It's nothing,' Arthur said modestly. Merlin rolled his eyes – he hadn't done anything! – and slipped on a dropped piece of paper, falling into the curtain.

'Who's there?' Arthur asked, pretending he didn't know Merlin had just been there and not entirely succeeding.

Merlin fumbled with the curtains to reveal himself in the opening. 'Morning.'

'What do you think you're doing in the royal chambers?' Arthur stared at him meaningfully.

Merlin tried to hide a smile as he noticed Gwen smirking behind Arthur. 'Chores?' he answered innocently.

'Maybe next time you'll be good enough to knock,' Arthur said, still trying to keep up the pretence, even though Merlin was fairly certain that he knew Gwen knew.

'Yes, sire.' He inclined his head and made to leave.

'Merlin?' Gwen said.

He turned back to his queen.

'Thank you.' Her smile was mischievous.

Merlin grinned back at her, then left. As he closed the door behind him, he heard Arthur mumble, 'It was my idea.'

He hoped Arthur couldn't hear his snickering through the door.

* * *

Back in Gaius's rooms, Merlin was drawing the cross he'd seen tattooed on the strange woman's wrist. He added the last flourish and passed the parchment to Gaius, who inspected it closely.

'If this is what I think it is, this is the mark of the Bendrui.'

'Bendrui?'

'Before the time of the Great Purge, girls would be chosen at birth for the priesthood,' Gaius explained. 'They'd be taken away from their families and brought up as initiates in the Old Religion.'

Merlin played with his quill, spinning it between his fingers. 'I thought Morgana was the only High Priestess left?'

'Only those possessed of exceptional magical power could ever hope to be one of the Nine. But do not underestimate this woman's abilities. All Bendrui are practiced at potent magic.'

Merlin hesitated. 'She said… Arthur's enemies were closer than I thought. She would have spoken with me last night, but Mordred was with me.' He looked up at the physician, pain in his eyes. 'She called him the "dark knight."' He gazed back down at his quill, now still in his hand. 'I trust him, Gaius. I don't think he could kill Arthur if he tried. But what if she knows something I don't?' He thought for a moment. 'What if we're looking at this from the wrong perspective?' he said slowly. 'Visions never mean what you think they do. Maybe we're not actually seeing Mordred kill Arthur.'

He straightened, resolve filling his face. 'I need to find out what she knows.'

'She's drawing you in, Merlin. It's a trap,' Gaius said firmly. 'She knows your name. There's only one explanation for that: Alator told Morgana who you are, and she sent this woman to lure you to her.' He leaned forward, his gaze intense. 'You mustn't go to her, Merlin.'

Merlin's face hardened. 'She can help me protect Arthur. Do I have a choice?'

Gaius sighed. 'Merlin. It was I who told Alator your true identity. I cannot let that destroy you.'

'You had no choice,' Merlin said sharply. He understood why Gaius was worried for him, but he would not let him feel guilty for breaking under torture.

'If ever you held me in any regard… Please do not do this.'

It was only then that Merlin realised how old Gaius was. The tired lines of his face were drawn in worry, his eyes hooded.

'You know I'd never do anything to hurt you, Gaius,' Merlin said gently.

'Thank you.' The physician's sad smile was almost enough for Merlin to actually promise not to go.

Almost.

* * *

'It's not funny!' Gwaine whined.

'It's not funny at all,' Leon agreed solemnly, throwing Gwaine's helmet to Mordred.

The helmet went from Mordred to Percival, then back to Mordred, narrowly missing Merlin, who was polishing Arthur's gauntlets.

'No one is laughing, it's just childish,' Gwaine complained, jumping around childishly in an attempt to intercept the helmet.

Merlin disagreed. He was definitely laughing, though he tried to stifle it as he noticed Arthur enter the armoury, out of sight of the others. Arthur met his gaze, quirking an eyebrow as if to say, _watch this_.

'You're right. It's stupid.' Mordred held out the helmet. 'Here.'

As Gwaine's fingertips came within an inch of the smooth metal, Mordred threw it sideways, barely looking where he was aiming, to Percival, who threw it to Leon. All three were laughing now at Gwaine's frantic attempts to retrieve his helmet. Leon threw it to Mordred, but it was finally intercepted – by Arthur.

'Gentlemen.'

The sudden guilty silence was almost funny in itself – as if these respected knights of Camelot, King Arthur's Inner Circle, were children in trouble. Merlin grinned behind them – only he had caught the twinkle in Arthur's eye that belied the disapproval in his voice.

'We were just –' Percival began.

'It's no matter,' Arthur said, holding the helmet out to Gwaine. The knight smiled gratefully, but it faded almost instantly as Arthur threw it to Percival. The latter returned Gwaine's helmet, even as the others grinned.

Merlin bent back over his polishing, but he heard Arthur speak. 'I've got a task for you.'

He looked up automatically, but realised Arthur had slung his arm around Mordred's shoulders and was taking him away from the others. He smiled privately to himself, pleased that Arthur still trusted the young knight, despite having witnessed his magic for himself not two weeks ago. Then his smile faded. If the woman in the forest was right, Arthur trusting Mordred was about the most dangerous thing that Merlin could have arranged.

* * *

Half-hidden in the shadow of a tree, Merlin peered through the night into the courtyard of the ruined temple of Erui. The woman stood there, facing away from him, her head bowed under her cloak. The mist was back, curling around her feet, wreathing the cracked stones in twisting grey smoke.

Steeling himself, though for what, he didn't know, Merlin left the shadows and stepped into the faint moonlight. As he ducked under the archway to the courtyard, the woman heard his footsteps. She turned and her face lit up as she recognised him. She sank to one knee.

'Great One.'

Merlin's brow furrowed. 'Please, that's not necessary.'

The woman rose smoothly. If she was aware of his discomfort at her servile greeting, she hid it well. 'It is an honour to mee you, Emrys. My name is Finna.'

'How did you know my name?' Merlin asked curiously.

'From my master, Alator of the Catha. He sends you greetings. But also a warning.' Her pleasant face darkened. 'The great battle nears. The fate of Camelot rests in the balance. Only you, Emrys, can ensure the triumph of the once and future king.'

Merlin took a step closer, shaking his head. 'I'm just his servant. I don't –'

They both heard it at the same time. The sound of weapons and armour clinking.

Finna's eyes widened.

'Quickly!' Merlin ordered. In seconds, they had left the temple and were running through the forest, trying to avoid the men pursuing them.

Merlin glanced behind him, just once, to see what they were up against. They were clearly from Camelot, with their red cloaks and silver armour.

Then a familiar voice yelled, 'Seize them!'

Mordred. This must have been what Arthur spoke to him about in the armoury. Leading his first mission.

Merlin grabbed Finna by the elbow, helping her along – she was not young, and a lifetime of running from Uther must have worn on her.

'Go!' he said, trying to usher her ahead.

'I cannot leave you,' she protested.

A knight came running towards where they were concealed in the shadows. Merlin sent him flying backwards with a blast of magic.

'I'll find you,' he promised. 'You have my word. Now _go_.'

She looked back at him once more, then ran deeper into the woods, away from the knights. Merlin slipped behind a tree and waited. A few seconds later, the rest of the knights found their fallen comrade. One or two worried over him – he would be fine, Merlin knew, though he might have a headache later – while the others fanned out, hoping to catch a glimpse of their prey.

Merlin muttered an enchantment, and a uniform wall of fire roared to life, only a few feet in front of the knights. As they recoiled, Merlin ran. Mordred could probably stop the flames, but Merlin hoped he would remember to still hide his magic, other than with him, Arthur, and Gwen.

He thought he had escaped without being seen, but once again, he was wrong.

_Merlin? Is that you?_ Mordred spoke in his mind.

Merlin didn't dare answer. He couldn't risk it – not until he knew Mordred could be trusted.

* * *

'I told Arthur because I was worried about you, Merlin,' Gaius said.

Merlin thrust a water gourd into his bag. 'She was working for Alator, not Morgana.'

'How was I to know that?' Gaius protested.

'Because I told you!' Merlin's shoulders were tight. He hated fighting with Gaius, but this time, he was in the right.

'I'm sorry, Merlin. I thought it was for the best.'

Merlin reined in his anger, focusing on his own mistakes instead. Gaius was just trying to help. 'Now, because of me, her life's in danger.'

'No, not you,' Gaius said. 'Me. I acted like a foolish old man.' His tone was regretful.

Merlin turned to him. 'No, never that,' he said earnestly. He shouldered his bag. 'But I have to go now.'

Gaius nodded forlornly.

'I must find out why she would risk her life for me,' Merlin said gently. He hugged his friend, then stepped back, picking up the sword he'd swiped from the armoury.

'Take care, Merlin,' Gaius said.

Merlin raised the sword in farewell, then, checking no one was around, left for the forest.

* * *

When he reached the place where he and Finna had been separated, Merlin slowed his pace, trying to pick up any sign of where she might be heading.

After ten minutes of searching, about a hundred yards past where she'd left him, he noticed a tree with two symbols charred into it. Three arrows pointing downwards, repeated a few inches to the left. A message from Finna.

He expanded his senses, trying to see the next tree with a similar sign. Scanning the forest, he found another tree with the same three arrows – a trail.

He followed the path that had been left for him, travelling a good few miles through the forest, away from Camelot, before he heard horses approaching. He must be closer to a path than he realised. He ducked behind two massive felled trees, waiting until the patrol rode past.

He waited another minute after they were out of sight, then stood, brushing himself off. He made to leave his hiding place, but the cold steel of a sword was suddenly at his throat. He froze.

When his assailant didn't move, he turned slowly, trying to think of what he could do – technically magic was allowed in this situation, as it was self-defence, and it wasn't as though Arthur would be angry at him for defending himself.

His captor came into view and Merlin relaxed.

'Percival?'

Percival lowered his sword, though the grim look on his face didn't fade. 'What are you doing here? You know what?' he waved off Merlin's answer. 'Just come join the others. Explain there.'

Which was how Merlin found himself surrounded by a group of solemn-looking knights.

'Herbs? You were looking for herbs?' Leon eyed him sceptically.

Merlin elaborated on the story he'd come up with as Percival had escorted him to the others. 'Gaius is very particular. They have to be fresh or the power's diminished.'

'This is not the time and the place to be gathering herbs,' Percival said.

Merlin raised his eyebrows innocently.'

'There's a dangerous sorcerer at large,' Leon explained. 'Not to mention Saxons. This is not the place to be alone.'

Merlin crossed his arms. 'Did you not consider that I might be the only safe one here?' He studiously avoided meeting Mordred's suspicious gaze.

Leon frowned. 'No… but even so. Arthur wouldn't be amused if he found out we saw you and let you go on alone.'

Merlin and Leon both ignored Gwaine's laughter and Mordred's quiet smirk.

'I'll be fine,' Merlin insisted. 'I'll just… collect the rest of my herbs and be on my way.'

'No.' Leon held out an arm to stop him.

Resigning himself to looking for Finna tomorrow, Merlin tried to be conciliatory. 'Alright. I'll head back now.'

'We can't allow that either,' Mordred said. Merlin didn't know what to make of his carefully blank expression.

'You're staying with us, Merlin. Until the sorcerer's apprehended.' This from a now-serious Gwaine.

Merlin hid his exasperation. 'Well, thank you.'

The knights breathed a collective sigh of relief. Percival returned to his tracking – as Camelot's best tracker, he was trying to find Finna's trail. Crouching on the ground, he searched this way and that, looking for things Merlin couldn't see, no matter how often Arthur tried to teach him.

Finally, he stood. 'We've lost her.'

'Do we split up? Some of us track back?' Gwaine suggested.

'It's getting dark,' Leon noted. 'We'll be sitting ducks for the Saxons. We'll start again at first light,' he decided. 'Let's set up camp here – Merlin, could you get a fire going?'

Merlin pursed his lips. 'Sure.'

* * *

Merlin had been waiting over an hour for everyone's breathing to slow. Now everyone was asleep, the quiet night only disturbed by Percival's snores and Gwaine occasionally talking in his sleep.

Carefully, he got up, sheathing the sword that lay beside him. Picking his way slowly through the throng of sleeping knights, he made his way to the edge of the camp. Once he returned to where Percival had found him, he could try to find the last symbol he'd seen to guide him to Finna.

'Good morning,' a voice said. Merlin whirled around, peering through the gloom to find its source. Finally, he saw Mordred leaning against a tree. 'Though, technically, I think it's still night.' His tone was lazy, unruffled, even if what little Merlin could see of him was taught with tension.

'I was just going for a –' Merlin began.

'Relieving yourself?' Mordred raised an eyebrow. 'You always put your boots on to do that, do you?'

'I don't like splinters,' Merlin said.

Mordred's gaze flicked down. 'And your sword?'

Merlin didn't answer.

'You weren't collecting herbs, were you?'

Merlin bit his lip, then shook his head, just once.

'Was it you in the forest last night?' Mordred asked.

Merlin wanted to answer. He really did. But Finna's words echoed in his head. _The great battle nears. The dark knight._ Until he knew what she meant, he couldn't trust Mordred.

Mordred took his silence as an answer. 'You don't have to explain yourself to me, Merlin. But I thought… I thought we were on our way to being friends.'

He looked so resigned that Merlin had to say something. 'We are, Mordred. But this –' he gestured wearily '– I don't even know what I'm looking for. I hope it will be good. But the risk remains that it will be terrible. I don't want to burden you with that.'

Mordred studied him, then nodded. 'If you're willing to risk your life, it must be important.'

'It is.'

The knight glanced back at his sleeping companions. 'I'll tell them I escorted you back to the bridge.'

Merlin's shoulders sagged in relief. 'Thank you.' He turned to leave.

'Merlin?' Mordred said quietly. 'Be careful.'

* * *

He followed the symbols left for him, now aware that some lingering magic cloaked them from those without magic, so that Percival and the others shouldn't be able to find her, if they even managed to pick up her trail in the first place.

She was camped closer than he expected. The smoke from the fire curled into the sky, the flames flaring as she added more wood to the already-burning pile, her back to Merlin.

'Finna.'

She whirled around, dropping the last logs on the ground as she rushed to him. 'Oh, master.' She bowed.

'Please, don't,' Merlin said weakly.

Her grey gaze met his. 'I thought I'd lost you.'

A smile tugged at his lips. 'You doubted me?'

'Never!'

Merlin huffed a laugh at her offended tone.

Then: yelling. Two thugs charging out of the underbrush. A blast of magic. The thugs out cold on the ground.

Merlin didn't see the third in the band. But he felt the arrow that struck his side. He collapsed in pain, his hand covering the wound.

Finna thrust a hand out, sending the archer flying back into a tree. She hurried over to him, batting his hand away so she could inspect the wound herself.

She grasped the arrow. 'They won't be alone,' she said to distract him, then yanked it out, drawing a hastily choked-off scream from Merlin. 'Morgana must not find you.'

Merlin nodded – or he thought he did. His head was spinning. He tried to focus, setting his hand back on his side. He didn't want to heal himself, just stem the blood flow until he could get back to Gaius. His eyes flashed, and he felt a warm, soothing patch over the wound. His magic had formed a sort of shield of energy, keeping the wound covered and safe from infection. It wasn't much, but it would do.

He drew his sword and used it to haul himself upright, groaning. 'Where can we go?'

Finna scanned the forest for any more attackers. 'There's an old watchtower on the other side of the valley. Can you walk?'

Merlin gritted his teeth. 'I think so.'

'It's not far.' She stepped closer, draping one of his arms over her shoulder so she could support him. together, they set off, Merlin leaning heavily on both the sorceress and the sword.

It took an hour to travel what Finna said was under two miles. They kept stopping when Merlin's side felt ready to rip in half. When they finally reached the watchtower, Finna helped Merlin stumble over the threshold, then urged him ahead as they climbed a flight of stairs.

Halfway up, Merlin fell – thankfully on his uninjured side. 'How do you know about this tower?' he asked, panting.

'When you've spent a lifetime running, you know all the places to hide,' she said simply.

'Running from Arthur? Magic is legal in Camelot.' Merlin breathed hard through his teeth, trying to steel himself for the remainder of the climb.

'Mostly from his father. But Camelot is still not safe. Not for the servants of the Catha. We were feared, and still are. We are not welcome in many places.' She leaned down, helping him to his feet.

He swayed a moment. 'It won't always be like this. Things will get better.'

'That is why I was sent,' she said. 'To help you make it so.'

That's when the dogs started barking. Merlin leaned on his sword and climbed the stairs, each step an agony. At the top, he pushed a door open and almost fell inside. He sat down heavily, leaning against a dusty barrel. Moonlight shone through a narrow window, providing just enough light to take in their surroundings.

There wasn't much – a long room, with barrels of what was presumably food for the guards who used to man the tower. The door they had come through, which Finna bolted behind them, and another one at the far end.

'Why are you doing this for me?' Merlin's breathing was ragged.

Finna knelt next to him. 'Without you, Emrys, Arthur cannot build the new world we all long for.'

Merlin's mind was fuzzy. The pain was making it hard to think. 'I don't understand.'

Finna produced a small wooden box from her cloak. Pressing it into his hand, she said, 'This is an ancient secret of the Catha. Guard it carefully. It will guide you in the dark days to come.'

'Thank you.' Merlin tucked the box into his pocket as they heard the hounds barking again. Both looked up.

'There is something else,' Finna said urgently, helping him stand again. 'Something Alator himself wanted me to tell you. You have already made the decision. It may save us – or destroy us all. But you have already chosen. So I tell you now: you can trust the druid boy.'

Merlin stared at her uncomprehendingly. 'But… the other night – you said –'

'The dark knight? He is a boy of shadows and secrets. But you already trust him. Any other route will certainly doom us. But with him by your side – we may stand a chance.'

Merlin hadn't noticed that she had helped him to the staircase past the door at the far end of the room. Leaning heavily on his sword, he managed to climb the stairs. Finna shut the door behind him, then faced him.

'You must go on.'

He looked around. 'There is nowhere to go.'

'There is a roof. You'll be safe there.'

'How?' Merlin didn't understand what was happening.

Finna's eyes were filled with a steely determination. 'They think I am alone. Once they have me, they will go.'

'I won't leave you, Finna,' Merlin protested. 'We fight them together.' No matter that he barely had the energy to stand, let alone fight. His magical bandage was taking the last vestiges of his energy.

'No.' Her tone brooked no argument. 'If Morgana sees us together, she will know who you are. That must never happen.'

'Finna, please.' Merlin's voice cracked.

'It is my destiny, Emrys, to serve you until the end. I could wish for nothing more.' She averted her gaze. 'Grant me one favour.'

'Anything.' Merlin could hardly see her gentle face through the tears clouding his vision.

'Leave me your sword.'

He hesitated a moment, then held it out to her, wobbling as he did so, before holding onto the wall for support. If she was to die, she could choose how to leave this world.

She bowed to him. He reached out, clasping her shoulder a moment, that touch saying a million things he couldn't voice. When she straightened, he bowed to her. Then, clutching his side, he staggered up the stairs she pointed to.

When he reached the roof, he collapsed. He tried to crawl away from the door, but only made it a few feet before giving up, letting himself lie there, trying not to make a noise.

Dogs barking.

The thunder of footsteps up the watchtower.

Two women's voices.

A scream. Of anger, not pain.

Then, after a minute, hoofbeats. After another, silence. They were gone.

Merlin lay on the roof, staring at the moon. He could still feel the patch of his magic holding his wound together, though it wasn't as sturdy as before.

He had to get home somehow. He refused to let Finna's sacrifice be in vain.

The wind whistled in the trees, the boughs whipping against each other, making a sound like beating wings.

Wings.

'Kilgarrah,' he croaked in the Dragon tongue. 'Help me.'

He didn't know if the dragon heard or not. He just slipped into the darkness.

* * *

Kilgarrah had flown him away from the watchtower and had healed him before he woke, then set him down near the castle. It was not much past dawn by the time Merlin returned to Gaius's rooms, the dragon's words ringing in his ears.

'_I am old, Emrys. My time has almost come.'_

'_What will I do without you?'_

'_You will remember me.'_

It was too soon. Merlin was immortal, and dragons lived for thousands of years. If Kilgarrah was gone, who would see the years go by with him? And if Arthur truly was to die soon –

Merlin shook his head to dispel those thoughts. He would see Kilgarrah again. And Arthur would survive. He had to.

Gaius had opened the box Finna had given to Merlin, revealing a small, sealed letter inside.

'What does it say?'

Gaius frowned at him over his spectacles. 'Just a moment.' He looked around for his letter opener, which Merlin handed to him. The physician sliced open the seal and unfolded the letter.

'Let loose the hounds of war,' he read. 'Let the dread fire of the last priestess rain down from angry skies, for brother will turn on brother, friend will turn on friend, as the great horn sounds a cold dawn at Camlann.' He hesitated, noticing Merlin's intense grip on the back of the chair he was leaning on, the tendons in his hands sticking out, but kept reading as Merlin's dark gaze slid to his own. 'The prophets do not lie. Arthur will fight his final battle upon that mighty plain.'

Merlin simply stared as Gaius folded the letter, returning it to its box. 'So many have suffered so that I may hear this,' he said quietly.

'Yes.' Gaius closed the box. 'I think I know what is going through your mind, Merlin. That your destiny is almost too much for one man to bear.'

Merlin scrubbed a hand across his face, sitting in his chair heavily. 'You always did know me best, Gaius,' he said ruefully. Then his face tightened. 'I need to speak to Mordred.' He looked up at the physician. 'Can he come here?'

Gaius's eyebrows drew together. 'Of course.'

Merlin nodded in thanks, then closed his eyes.

_Hey, Mordred? Could you come down here? I need to talk to you._

The reply came quickly. _Give me twenty minutes._

_See you then._

'He'll be here soon,' Merlin said to Gaius. 'I'll just…' he yawned, resting his head on the table.

Only a few seconds seemed to have passed before he felt Mordred shaking his shoulder. 'Merlin? Are you alright?'

He sat up, blinking slowly. Gaius must have left the room when he fell asleep. He rubbed his eyes, then focused on the young knight.

'I'm sorry.'

Mordred frowned. 'For what?'

'For not trusting you. I just… I get so scared for Arthur that it sort of takes over everything. I can't think rationally. I know you would never hurt him. Or me,' he added. 'But I hurt you. And for that I apologise.'

Mordred still looked wary, but he smiled tightly. 'It's okay. It's your destiny to protect the king. I can't blame you for doing exactly what you always said you would.'

Merlin chewed his lip. 'Speaking of destiny… I wonder if we've been looking at this the wrong way.'

Mordred pulled out another chair and sat next to him, bracing his arms on his thighs. 'What do you mean?'

'I think… maybe the prophecy doesn't mean what we think it means. What if it means that _if_ you become Arthur's enemy, then you will kill him? That leaves a pretty big loophole.'

Mordred frowned. 'I don't follow.'

Merlin fiddled with his sleeve as he tried to order his muddled thoughts. 'I don't know, exactly. But I believe you wouldn't betray Arthur – not by choice.' He sighed. 'I need to sleep. And to think. I just wanted you to know – I trust you. But right now, all I know is, battle is coming.'

Almost on cue, the warning bells started ringing.

Merlin leaped out of his chair, ready to race to Arthur's rooms, the early hour and his late night forgotten. He rushed to the door – then jumped back as a group of knights, led by Gwaine, barged in, carrying a body to the bed Gaius used for invalids.

'We got here as fast as we could,' Gwaine said, swiping his curls out of his face with an impatient hand.

'Where did this happen?' Gaius asked. He drew back the sheet covering the body. When Merlin leaned over to have a look, he recoiled instantly. The knight had no face, only smooth skin where his features should have been.

'We found him just inside the border,' Leon said, his expression grim.

'Fetch my gloves,' Gaius ordered. Merlin scanned the room, weaving through the cluster of knights to retrieve them.

'Do you know what it is?' asked Percival.

Gaius drew on his gloves. He ran a steady finger over where the knight's face should be, searching for any irregularity. 'I fear so. The skin has grown across his face until he suffocated.'

Arthur joined them, hair still mussed from bed, but dressed and alert. He stopped by the knight's side, taking in the fate of one of his men. Merlin watched him, noting the imperceptible way his mouth tightened and his eyes clouded.

'Gaius?' The king's voice was quiet, but steady.

'The disfigurement is not a result of disease or infection. It is the result of powerful magic. In the old days, there was a punishment known as Ragaid – the ultimate warning from the High Priestess to her enemies.'

Merlin's gaze slid to Mordred, who had jolted at the name of the curse. His young face was afraid. The other knights were too, but not in the same way. They didn't have Mordred's knowledge of the Old Religion.

'Why was this knight chosen?' Arthur pressed. 'What had he done?'

'He'd done nothing. Except be a knight of Camelot.'

Arthur looked at the physician sharply. The older man held his gaze.

'It's a warning, sire. A warning to the whole kingdom.'

Mordred met Merlin's eyes, the fear in them clear to see.

'Morgana has declared war.'

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**I'm really sorry this one is late - it's a fair bit longer than the others though, so I hope you'll forgive me.**

**In anticipation of both another long chapter and also a lot more planning than usual, I'm going to say now that the next chapter probably won't be up for 3 weeks (rather than the usual 2-ish). **

**Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave a review if you didn't - I really love reading them. And hey, even if you didn't, leave a review anyway - I honestly do want to improve.**

**Love,**

**NewtPevensie xoxoxox**


	7. The Drawing of the Dark

'I think it's been a good trip,' Arthur said, dappled sunlight making his hair gleam as the hunting party rode through the forest.

'Yeah, we all caught something,' Mordred agreed.

'Including Merlin,' Gwaine added, trying to suppress a laugh.

Arthur frowned, trying to remember. 'What did he catch?'

'A cold,' Merlin said glumly. He was shivering, wrapped tightly in his cloak, looking forward to getting warm once they returned to the castle.

Percival grinned. 'If you learned to track, you'd enjoy it more.'

'I'm the best tracker here,' Merlin said. Someone scoffed – probably Arthur. 'I just can't track animals.'

Gwaine's laugh was cut off when Percival suddenly held up a hand, gesturing at them to stop. He removed his cloak and dismounted. He crouched next to the thing that had caught his attention, pulling it from the ground and showing it to the others. It was an arrow.

The others dismounted around him, drawing their swords warily. Merlin slipped his crossbow off his shoulder and joined the knights following Percival silently through the woods.

'Arthur, what is it?' he asked in a whisper.

Arthur didn't answer. He just stopped as he drew level with Percival and saw what had made him stop.

It was carnage. At least a dozen knights dead. A wagon tipped on its side, its covering ripped to shreds, its contents gone.

'Saxons,' Merlin said.

Leon knelt next to the nearest knight and closed his eyes, pulling his cloak over the body.

'They were after the cargo,' Arthur said, scanning the trees. 'Weapons bound for Camelot.'

'Morgana?' Merlin asked.

'This close to the city walls?' Gwaine added doubtfully.

'Check for survivors,' Arthur ordered.

The party split up, each heading for a different knight, checking if they were alive. Merlin covered two more bodies before he looked up, just in time to see Mordred racing off in pursuit of someone in a rough brown cloak.

Merlin waved to Arthur, getting his attention before running after Mordred. Mordred could handle himself fine, but he'd rather he had backup. He heard Arthur whistling for the others, directing them to follow, but focused on not losing his footing by tripping over a root or something equally ignominious.

He wasn't far behind the knight, but he lost sight of him for a few seconds. By the time he caught up, he saw Mordred help the fallen stranger to their feet, then step back, gesturing for them to go.

Then Arthur was beside him, oblivious to what Mordred had done. 'What happened?'

'I thought I saw someone,' Mordred answered. 'I was wrong. Probably a deer.'

'You sure?'

'Yeah.'

Arthur gazed past Mordred for a second, then turned to the others behind him. 'Move out.'

Mordred went to follow, but Merlin caught his arm. _What just happened?_

Mordred wouldn't meet his eyes. _I'll explain later, I promise_.

* * *

Merlin set a vial down on Gaius's workbench, then wandered off, too preoccupied with his own thoughts to pay attention to where he was going.

'I don't want that. I want lungwart,' Gaius said, irritated.

'Maybe it's in the… thing.' Merlin gestured vaguely.

'What is it, Merlin?' Gaius sighed. 'What's the matter?'

'Mordred,' was all Merlin said.

'You're thinking about what the sorceress told you?'

'Finna told me I could trust him. And I do. But not a fortnight after I tell him that, he's letting a Saxon go.' He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long breath. 'I don't understand.'

Gaius pursed his lips. 'He's a loyal knight. He has proved it time after time.'

'I know that. I just… why would he let a Saxon go? He has no attachment to them. And while he's kind enough to do such a thing, I don't think he would after the carnage they wreaked on the weapons escort.'

Gaius looked sceptical. 'There must be a simple explanation.'

'I hope so.' Merlin shook his head. 'He said he would explain later – I'm just worried about what he's going to tell me.'

Gaius sighed. 'We have patients waiting.'

Merlin nodded and headed for the door.

'Merlin?'

'Yeah?'

'Have you got everything?' Gaius prompted.

'Yeah.'

'_Merlin_.'

Merlin looked down at his hands, which were empty, then around the room. He clicked his tongue, going back to the workbench and grabbing the tray of medicines Gaius needed for his rounds before returning to the door.

'Better?'

'You think?'

* * *

'I saw you let a Saxon go.'

Mordred started guiltily before he realised it was just Merlin, leaning against a wall, waiting for him to come in from training.

'Why did you do it?' Merlin's voice was strange even to his own ears, from trying to avoid sounding accusatory, but still getting the answers he needed.

Mordred looked at the ground, then back up at Merlin, chewing his lip. 'Her name's Kara. She's a druid. She was wounded. What could I do – let her be captured? She had an arrow in her leg. She can barely walk.' He cut himself off, breathing deeply to calm himself down.

Merlin's eyebrows drew together. 'You're taking a big risk. Even with magic being legal, if she was with the Saxons…' he trailed off at Mordred's agonised expression.

'I can't let her die. She's someone… I can't explain.' The knight's voice shook.

Merlin stepped closer, hands up as if in surrender. 'Where is she?' he asked gently.

'She needs a few days. Then she'll be gone. She means no harm. Please, you mustn't tell anyone. You know if Arthur catches her, she'll be imprisoned or killed.' The words spilled out of him instead of the tears brimming in his eyes. 'Please, Merlin, I beg you. She's one of us.'

Merlin nodded, trying to calm his friend. 'Of course. Does she need medicine? For her leg?'

Mordred's legs almost gave way in relief. He sagged against the wall, rubbing his forehead. 'I'm not sure. Anything you think might help clean a wound.'

Merlin nodded thoughtfully. 'Bandages?'

'If you can get some.'

'Should be easy enough. I'll tell Gaius you got hurt in training or something.'

Mordred managed to huff a laugh. 'Given the way Arthur's been pushing us, it wouldn't be far from the truth.'

Merlin smiled. 'Give me half an hour, alright? Arthur wants me to help sort some patrols. I'll meet you by the kitchens afterwards.'

Mordred sighed in relief. 'Thank you, Merlin. Truly.'

Merlin waved off his thanks. 'You've helped me so often, it's only fair I return the favour. Oh,' he said suddenly thinking of another problem. 'Don't go until it's dark. There won't be as many patrols out by then.'

Mordred's eyes were faraway; thinking of Kara, Merlin guessed. 'I won't. I'll see you in a bit,' he said. The ghost of a smile on his lips, he walked off, back to his rooms.

Merlin stared after him. Mordred had left the druids many years ago. If he still cared for this girl after all this time – well, she must be special indeed. Some small part of him wondered if he would feel the same after all these years if Freya, the cursed girl he'd once loved, had left Camelot, rather than died. He still remembered the sound of her voice, even though her face was fading from his memories.

'What are you doing?'

Arthur's voice snapped him back to reality. He glanced back at his king. 'I'm like a swan,' he announced.

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

'It seems like I'm not doing anything, but there's a lot of work going on underneath,' Merlin explained.

'Ah.' Arthur nodded sagely. 'Interesting. I see you more as a head louse.'

Merlin blinked. 'Right.'

'Useless. Irritating.'

'Got it.'

Arthur slung an arm over Merlin's shoulders. 'Come on. We've got a patrol to map.'

* * *

When Mordred returned from the forest, late that night, Merlin was still up. Arthur had kept him busy until after midnight, sending him on assorted errands which, while important, could easily have waited until the morning. Arthur had been drafting a new economic decree, which he hated doing.

'If I have to be up with this half the night, you can keep me company while I do it,' he'd said.

So, when he ran into Mordred, still wet from the rain that had covered his exit from the castle, he wasn't as awake as he might like.

'How is she?' Merlin asked.

Mordred had a strange look on his face – slightly dazed, as if he'd seen a ghost. Which, Merlin supposed, he had, in a way. Seeing someone from your childhood wasn't easy. Growing up changed you.

'Mordred?'

The knight focused glazed eyes on Merlin. 'What?'

'How is she?'

Mordred blinked slowly, as if waking up from a dream. 'She should be alright. I dressed her leg and left her some medicine. With any luck, she should be healed in a few days.'

Merlin smiled. 'That's great.' His smile faded as Mordred's expression didn't change – an unsettling mix of vacantness and intensity.

'Mordred? Are you alright?'

Mordred tilted his head, the perfect image of quizzicality. 'Of course. I'm going to bed,' he added abruptly, and walked off, his purposeful gait utterly at odds with his blank stare.

Merlin watched him go, then shook his head. It was nothing. It was well past one in the morning, and they were both tired. They would talk in the morning, he decided, before heading for his own bed.

* * *

Arthur crouched, late morning sunlight trickling through the forest canopy. 'Merlin. Here.' He pointed. 'You need to stay alert. What do you see?'

Merlin sighed. 'I spy… a pair of breeches that need cleaning.'

Arthur stood. True to Merlin's prediction, his trousers were covered in mud from where he'd knelt on the ground. He clasped Merlin's shoulder and made him look down. When Merlin still looked confused, he pushed him down, making him kneel where Arthur had been moments before.

'Now what do you see?'

Merlin stood, scowling at his king. 'Two pairs of breeches that need cleaning.'

'On the branch.' Arthur's insistent tone was tinged with exasperation, so Merlin decided to actually look, rather than risk Arthur giving him some odious task when they returned home.

'It's broken,' he said, staring at the branch that was quite clearly snapped and hanging in the wrong direction.

'What does that tell you?' Arthur had switched to using the _Merlin-you-idiot_ voice that he kept for special occasions, like when he tripped over something, or couldn't find something Arthur had lost, or just because Arthur was bored. So, his normal voice for addressing Merlin.

'Something left the trail.' If he was using his magic, he could track whatever it was, no problem. Instead, he had to sit – well, stand – through yet another tracking lesson.

'It's recent,' Arthur said.

Merlin looked up, noticing something move behind Arthur.

'An animal,' he said confidently.

'You think so?' Arthur's scepticism was clear.

'I do.'

'It'd have to be a big one.'

'With very big antlers.'

Arthur frowned. 'What makes you say that?'

'Because it's looking at us.'

Arthur turned to see the deer Merlin was staring at. It was a magnificent, with easily a dozen points on his antlers, and an expression that was somehow regal.

Merlin smirked. 'It's all about keeping alert,' he said, nudging Arthur, before stepping away quickly so he wouldn't retaliate.

Arthur ignored him, going to investigate something. 'That's not a deer,' he murmured. Merlin peered over Arthur's shoulder at the footprints that were suddenly blindingly obvious.

The pair followed the trail, ending up back by the upturned wagon they had found the day before. The bodies were gone – as soon as they'd returned the day before, Arthur had ordered a patrol to bring them back for a proper burial.

'The tracks – they're from when we were here yesterday?' Even as he said it, Merlin knew he was wrong. There was only one set of footprints, not the many pairs crossing over each other you would expect from a patrol. Something was wrong.

'It was dry yesterday. It rained last night.' Arthur scanned the ground, trying to pick up the trail.

Merlin's stomach dropped. Mordred had come in from the forest, wet from the rain. It had stopped by the time he returned, but it had been pouring when he left. It must have stopped in time for him to reach the forest – and to leave his tracks.

Kara was near.

'Our men have been patrolling this area night and day. It's probably one of them, doing an extra sweep,' Merlin said, trying to sound casual. He couldn't betray Mordred's trust. Not when he had trusted him with the knowledge of this girl.

'Who? I have their reports. No one's been through here. Aha!' Arthur said triumphantly. He picked up a broken stick that Mordred must have stepped on. 'This way.'

They followed the path Arthur found for them, reading the forest as easily as Gaius read his books. Merlin found himself wishing for a way to divert their course, to stop the trail, anything, but Arthur was just too good at this. He couldn't use his magic – Arthur would know he'd done something, which would lead to questions, and would bring them to the girl anyway.

Finally, they came to a cave in a small dip in the forest floor. It was well-hidden, but Mordred's tracks brought them straight to the entrance. It was covered in vines, concealing whatever lay within.

Arthur drew his sword, then crept inside, Merlin following him reluctantly.

'Arthur,' Merlin warned. Arthur glanced back at him, unimpressed at his caution. Merlin nodded to the back of the cave, where a girl had just stood up shakily.

She was clearly tired and hungry, using the boulder she had hidden behind for support. She was thin, with tangled hair and eyes tightened with pain.

'Don't hurt me,' she pleaded. She limped towards them, keeping one hand on the boulder. As she came out from behind the rock, he saw the bandage clumsily wrapped around her leg.

'Careful,' Merlin said, gesturing at her leg. 'Arthur, she's wounded.'

'I can see that.'

'Please,' Kara said. 'I mean you no harm.'

Arthur sheathed his sword, stepping towards her to help her walk. He was a foot away when she drew a dagger and tried to stab him.

_Hell_.

Merlin flung out his hand, eyes glowing gold, causing the dagger handle to spark, making her drop it. instantly, Arthur's arms were around her, pinning her hands to her sides. She glared at Arthur, then her attention slid to Merlin, a calculating look taking over her features.

'You would have killed me.' Arthur sounded surprised, as if he had never considered the possibility of dying at the hands of an injured girl barely out of her teens in a cave in the forest.

To be fair, Merlin hadn't considered it either, but that was a good lesson in making assumptions.

Kara lifted her chin and somehow managed to look down on Arthur, despite the good nine inches he had on her. 'I'm only sorry I failed.' Her voice was like ice.

Arthur bound her wrists with a length of vine he plucked from the cave entrance. As he did, Merlin tried to understand why, exactly, this had happened. If this girl had been with the Saxons, that would be reason enough to wish to kill Arthur. But she was also a druid, and magic was legal. And she was trusted by Mordred –

Mordred.

Merlin felt a buzzing in his ears as a wave of nausea swept over him.

Mordred was going to kill him.

* * *

Polishing. Why was it always polishing?

Merlin hated polishing. It took forever, hurt his back and cramped his hands. He always thought that after an hour of polishing, he knew how Gaius felt when he complained about his arthritis. Trying to straighten up after being bent over a suit of armour for hours was excruciating.

Merlin was fairly certain Arthur knew all of this, and that it was why he enjoyed making him polish the most unnecessary things when he had boring jobs to do, too – they could share in the bad mood together.

Did it count as sharing if one was forced on the other? Or was it the act of both being in a bad mood, regardless of motivations, that meant you were sharing? Or –

'Why?'

Merlin's (admittedly ridiculous) train of thought was abruptly cut off as Mordred slammed him against the corridor wall, pinning him easily.

Merlin blanked for a moment before realising what this was about. 'I didn't tell him!'

'You gave me your word,' Mordred snarled.

'I swear,' Merlin said adamantly, pushing him away. He had expected something like this. He had promised not to tell Arthur Kara was there, and, while he hadn't directly told him, he also hadn't managed to stop Arthur from finding her, which accomplished much the same thing.

Mordred just stood there, breathing heavily. The fury in his eyes was enough to scorch the wall behind Merlin, even without his magic. 'You did it because you hate me.'

Merlin frowned, sure he had misheard. 'I don't hate you, Mordred. You know that.'

'This time you've gone too far.' The knight almost spat the words. 'You'll pay, Merlin.'

'What's going on?'

Merlin looked to his right to see Gwaine, accompanied by Leon, striding down the hall. The latter looked wary – Mordred was usually so good-natured. His dark expression was unsettling.

'What's this about?' he asked.

'Nothing,' Mordred growled. He barged between the two knights, bumping into them as he stormed off.

All three watched him go with varying degrees of concern.

'Merlin? Care to explain?' Gwaine looked unusually serious.

'It's nothing. Really.' Merlin tried to smile, but it felt forced. He left the others behind him, heading for Gaius's rooms.

Mordred had every right to be angry. But he knew Merlin didn't hate him. Liked him, even. It was probably just an overtired reaction to bad news, Merlin tried to rationalise.

But he couldn't shake the look in Mordred's eyes when he pinned him to the wall: furious, certainly, but also curiously blank, as if he were angry, but didn't know why.

The same way he'd seemed blank last night – when he'd returned from seeing Kara.

A chill ran down Merlin's spine. Something was very wrong here.

He just had to figure out what.

* * *

Merlin was folding Arthur's shirt as the king stared at one of the many scrolls that cluttered his desk – the pile of paperwork that would never be finished, he always complained.

'What are you going to do with the girl?' Merlin asked, casual in a way that was not casual at all.

Arthur didn't look up from his desk. 'She must stand trial.'

The back of Merlin's neck prickled. He was expecting it, but still, hearing it confirmed set him on edge.

When Merlin said nothing, Arthur sat back in his chair and sighed. 'What?'

Merlin was quiet for another moment or two, then changed approach. 'Have you noticed anything odd about Mordred recently?'

'Not particularly,' Arthur said. 'Unlike you. You normally talk utter rubbish, but these sound like real questions. Have you been hiding a brain in that head of yours all these years?'

Merlin didn't bother wasting his energy rolling his eyes. 'He's been acting strange. Moody – angry, almost. And twice now in two days, he's had this weird look – blank, like he's not really there.'

Arthur raised an eyebrow. 'Maybe you're just that boring.'

'Thanks,' Merlin said, sarcasm coating his voice, 'but I'm serious.' He chewed the inside of his cheek, then added: 'I think it's because of the girl.'

Arthur frowned. 'Why do you think that?'

'I'm not sure. All I know is, before we found her, he was fine, and since then, he's been acting strangely.'

'Might be a coincidence.'

Merlin shook his head. 'The universe is rarely that lazy.'

Arthur threw his hands in the air. 'I take it back. There is no brain in that head, just a strange ability to sound wise when you don't know what's going on.'

'I'm not joking. I think she's behind it.'

The dark undertone of his voice convinced Arthur he was serious. He leaned forward. 'Why?'

Merlin closed his eyes for a moment, asking for forgiveness – though from whom, he wasn't sure. 'Mordred knows her. He's the one that tried to heal her. I gave him the supplies. But he really cares for her. If she is executed… it might break him.'

Arthur inhaled sharply at the series of confessions Merlin gave him, no hint of secrecy left between them. 'I understand, Merlin, I really do. But she committed treason. Being Mordred's friend is no defence.'

'I know that. Just… I don't know.' He rubbed a hand over his face, thinking. 'Will you do me a favour?'

Arthur furrowed his brow. 'Depends.'

'Will you try her in private? Or, at least, can we talk to her first, without the whole court present? I have some things I want to ask her.'

When it came to Merlin, Arthur had incredulity down to a fine art. 'You remember it's my job to interrogate her, yes?'

'Yes. But these are questions you won't ask. You won't know what answers to look for.'

Arthur looked ruminative. 'Why do you think she'll answer you?'

Merlin made a face. 'I have a funny feeling.'

Arthur's eyes snapped to his, narrowing as he tried to read what Merlin wasn't saying.

Merlin held his gaze, then asked bluntly, 'Do you trust me?'

'Yes.' He answered without a trace of hesitation.

'Will you do this for me?'

'Yes.'

* * *

Arthur arranged it quickly and quietly. Only he, Merlin, and two guards knew that Kara was taken to one of the small meeting rooms that Arthur used to hold private audiences with foreign dignitaries. They were private, out of the way, and most importantly, rarely used.

Her hands were bound, but her feet were free. Merlin offered her a chair, which she refused, then went to stand out of the way, letting Arthur take the lead. He would step in when the moment was right.

'What is your name?' Arthur began.

She said nothing.

Arthur rolled his eyes. 'I do not wish to use it for evil reasons. I would just rather not call you "Girl." Give me a false name, for all I care. So I ask again, what is your name?'

She met his gaze defiantly. 'Kara.'

'Kara. Were you part of a cohort of Saxons who attacked an arms shipment bound for Camelot?'

'Yes.' Her face was expressionless, unafraid.

'Were you acting under the orders of Morgana Pendragon?'

'What I did, I did for myself, for my people, and for our right to be free.' Some emotion started to simmer in her eyes, despite the rest of her face remaining calm.

'I have no quarrel with the druids,' Arthur said. 'All may practice as they wish, so long as they uphold the peace in Camelot.'

Kara's eyes sparked. 'I've spent my life on the run because of my beliefs, and seen those I loved killed.'

'Once, maybe,' Arthur countered, 'but I am not my father.'

'Too little, too late,' she spat. 'Permitting magic now does not bring back my mother from the dead. Nor my brother, my cousin, my friends I grew up with. It is not I, Arthur Pendragon, who needs to answer for my crimes. It is you. You and your father heaped misery on my kind and turned a peaceful people to war. And Camelot shall pay the price for the blood that was spilled.' Her voice rang through the room, echoing against the flagstones.

From his position behind Arthur, Merlin could see his tight shoulders and angled head – both signs of suppressed emotion. Rather than let him say something he would regret, Merlin stepped forward.

'In your words, I hear the voice of Morgana. She and her followers are the ones who have abused the powers of magic. It is their deeds that have terrorised Camelot, and forced magic to be outlawed. But I am proof that magic is not evil, and is accepted in Camelot.' He held his hand out, palm up, light glowing from his fingertips.

Kara gaped at him, then at Arthur, who was steadily watching Merlin's demonstration, before his eyes flicked back to the girl.

'Magic is no more evil than a knife. Speaking of which –' Arthur's tone shifted, '– you are not here to discuss magic. You tried to kill your king.'

'You are not my king,' Kara said. 'And I would do the same again. I will not rest until you are dead, and the rightful queen –'

Her eyes flew wide.

Merlin smiled – a cold, calculating thing, so different from his characteristic warm mischief. He jerked his head towards the door. Arthur followed him without a word.

Merlin closed the door behind them.

'Morgana,' they said simultaneously.

'She's clearly one of Morgana's spies,' Arthur said. 'We can't risk her going back to Morgana and telling her about you. And Mordred,' he added, looking away.

Merlin thought for a second. 'What I don't understand is why Mordred is acting strangely because of her,' he said slowly. 'If she was trying to turn him to Morgana's side, surely she would want to keep him with her –'

He stopped. 'That's it,' he breathed. 'She's not trying to turn him to Morgana's side. She's enchanted him.'

Arthur frowned. 'Enchanted him? How?'

'I'm not sure. A spell? A potion? But that's not important.' Merlin looked at Arthur intently, willing him to understand. 'We can use this.'

Arthur started to look worried. 'What do you mean?'

'I have a plan.'

Now Arthur looked genuinely scared. 'We're relying on one of your plans to save Mordred?'

Merlin's mouth twitched into a smile. 'Who says you haven't before?'

Arthur let out a long breath. 'Okay. What do I do?'

Merlin met his gaze. 'Sentence Kara to death.'

* * *

Merlin was helping Arthur remove his chainmail when they heard a knock at the door of his room.

Not looking, Arthur called, 'Come in.'

The door creaked open – Merlin really needed to oil those hinges – to reveal Mordred, wearing an unreadable expression.

Arthur glanced at Merlin, who silently went to lay down the chainmail. 'Mordred. What is it?'

The young knight blinked once, twice, as if trying to remember why he was there, then sank to the ground. On his knees, he turned his blank face up to look beseechingly upon his king.

'It was me. I was the one who helped the druid girl. My lord, I'm asking you, please, reconsider your sentence.'

Merlin went to close the door behind him – this conversation was not one that should be overheard.

'You know this girl.' Arthur's voice was flat, keeping Mordred attention on him.

Mordred nodded slowly. 'She is... since I was a child…' The tears that had started flowing made it hard for him to speak. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. 'She's always lived inside my heart.'

There was something off about his sadness, Merlin decided. Not as though he didn't mean it, but his tears were somehow forced. The belief that he should be crying, perhaps, rather than the sudden onslaught of emotion catching him off-guard.

Arthur met Merlin's eyes, just for a second. 'Okay,' he said softly. He leaned down, offering Mordred his arm. Helping him up, he clasped his shoulder. 'You know that there is nothing I wouldn't do for you. You're a knight of Camelot. It's a bond we share.' He glanced past him, then returned his focus to the knight. 'But what you ask… this girl, she is a danger. Not just to me.' His gaze flicked to Merlin again. 'She's a sworn enemy of Camelot. Ruthless.'

Merlin took a step forward, coming closer to Mordred from where he stood behind him.

The knight must have sensed Merlin behind him – that, or Arthur's repeated glances towards him must have given him away. Mordred turned, ready to strike – but Merlin struck first.

He pressed his fingertips to Mordred's temples, then his thumbs to his forehead, holding his head still as he struggled. Arthur had already pinned his wrists so he couldn't dislodge Merlin's grip. Merlin chanted the spell he had found in Gaius's books – one which promised to break possession spells. Mordred tried to pull away, but merely backed into Arthur's broad chest. Merlin's eyes flashed, and Mordred slumped.

Arthur swore, unprepared, but Merlin caught the knight as he slipped to the ground. Catching on, Arthur helped him carry the boy to the bed, laying him down gently.

'He'll be awake in a minute,' Merlin assured Arthur, who was staring at Mordred with an unguarded look of sorrow.

'What happened to him?' Arthur asked.

Merlin pursed his lips. 'She – Kara – had control of his mind. I broke the connection, but he might not remember much from the last few days. We need to be careful.'

Arthur was about to answer, but Mordred groaned, diverting their attention. He blinked a few times, trying to get his bearings.

'Why am I in Arthur's bed?'

Arthur stepped forward, into his field of vision. 'Because you collapsed.'

Mordred frowned. 'Why did I collapse? What's going on? I was in the forest, and then –'

Merlin joined Arthur, close enough that their shoulders touched. 'You were under a spell.'

Mordred raised an eyebrow. 'The sorcerer got ensorcelled?' He laughed, a sharp, wary thing. 'Glad Gwaine doesn't know about this.'

Merlin's lips twitched into a smile, imagining all the jokes Gwaine would make if he knew.

'What else?' Mordred asked. 'I remember… Kara.' His gaze shot to Arthur, then back to Merlin, his body taught. 'She's here.'

Merlin winced. 'She tried to kill Arthur.'

'What?' The word was barely a whisper. Mordred had gone pale.

'She's been sentenced to death.'

* * *

The entire citadel was abuzz.

The news had spread fast. A girl in league with Morgana Pendragon had tried to kill King Arthur. She had been sentenced to death, but one of the king's knights had tried to save her. Rumour had it he knew her before he came to Camelot – that he loved her. He had tried to intervene with the king, begging for her life, but had been refused. Then, instead of accepting the law, he had tried to help the girl escape. They had killed two guards before they had been captured.

The king didn't want to execute his friend, so had proposed in his mercy to banish them both, if the girl repented.

She hadn't.

She had been executed in private, for fear that if it were done in public, Morgana might make an appearance.

When he had heard, the knight had blown the door of his cell clean off its hinges – with magic. And now he was gone, apparently to Morgana. He had betrayed his king for a girl who had tried to kill him. Some people said it was because she had enchanted him. Others claimed he had been a spy for Morgana from the start. Either way, the king was distraught.

The other knights had renounced their comrade, swearing that they would kill him on sight. To this, the king said nothing.

Merlin ignored the whispers. He did what had to be done.

* * *

Mordred's knees hit the flagstones as Morgana's men pushed him to the ground. He bowed his head, then looked up at her, lounging on a cold throne, her face gaunt and shadowed.

'My old friend,' she sneered, not bothering with niceties. 'Last time we met, you tried to kill me.'

He didn't flinch. He hadn't been expecting a warm welcome – not yet, anyway. 'I am here for a purpose, Morgana. I bring you the news you have longed for.'

She leaned forward, eyes hungry. 'Arthur's death?'

'The key to it.' The intensity of her eyes was frightening, but he forged ahead. 'I was wrong to ever question you, my lady, and I wish to make amends.'

'Tell me.' Her voice was dangerously quiet.

'There is someone you have been searching for. Someone who has always eluded you.'

She sat back in her throne. 'Emrys.'

'I know where he is.'

'Where?' she breathed.

'Camelot.'

Her face froze in shock. But he wasn't done yet.

'And I have his name.' Mordred's lip curled. 'Merlin.'

Morgana's breath caught. 'Merlin?' she whispered. 'The serving boy?'

Mordred's eyebrow quirked, the picture of arrogance. 'The very same.'

Morgana closed her eyes, trying to reconcile the image of the clumsy servant who had once given her flowers, and her worst nightmare. But of course they were the same: hadn't the boy tried to poison her, without trying to hide he'd done it?

When her eyes opened, they were burning, but with ice, rather than fire. She smiled cruelly. 'Well, Sir Mordred. I think there may be a place in my court for one as… helpful as you.' She addressed a guard. 'Find Sir Mordred a room. And new clothes. That cloak…' she eyed the red material scornfully. 'It does not befit my right-hand man.'

Mordred inclined his head, then stood. Following the guard, he allowed himself a tiny sigh of relief.

_I'm in._

He felt Merlin relax. _Thank goodness. She believed you?_

_I think so. The story you created was pretty believable._ He paused. _How is she?_

Merlin snorted down the bond. _She's fine. Lots of space, blankets, food… It's almost more comfortable down here than my room. A bit colder, maybe, _he added as an afterthought.

_Where did you say that place was, again?_

_It's where Uther once kept a dragon prisoner. _

_A dragon?_ Mordred wasn't sure he'd heard right.

_I freed him. It's perfectly safe, I promise. And no one's going to find her. Even Arthur didn't know about this place until I told him._

Mordred said nothing more until he'd shut the door on the guard, having arrived at his new room. _I'm glad you thought of it. If she was freed… she'd just come straight back to Morgana._

_Don't worry about that, Mordred. That's my problem. You focus on getting Morgana to trust you. The more she trusts you, the more she'll tell you. On that note_, Merlin said, tone growing wary, _you told her?_

_Yeah. She knows who you are now. _

_It was bound to happen at some point_, Merlin said lightly. _At least this way, we'll be ready for her._

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**I'm sorry it's been a bit longer for this chapter - I wasn't sure how long it would take me to plan it out and write it. But it's here now!**

**The next one might also be three rather than two weeks away - the next couple of weeks are very deadline-heavy, so I'll try to get it done sooner rather than later, but I can't guarantee it.**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter - if you didn't curse me out at least once, I don't think I did it right. Whatever. This one was fun to write. **

**As ever, reviews are very much appreciated, positive or negative. **

**Love,**

**NewtPevensie xoxoxox**


	8. The Diamond of the Day - Part 1

_Well, that was horrible_.

Merlin blinked, then leaned back on his haunches. Mordred wasn't meant to check in for another few hours. If he was speaking to him now, something must have happened.

_What is it?_

Merlin could feel the revulsion Mordred was trying to disguise with his flippant tone. _Morgana has interesting ideas of what to do with guests._

_What did she do?_

_She invited a powerful warlock to the court. And then she took his magic. _Mordred shuddered, remembering the man's screams.

Merlin frowned, the brush in his hand forgotten. _What do you mean, took his magic?_

_I mean, she ordered a Gean Canach to attack him, and when it was done, he couldn't even light a candle._

_Gean Canach?_

_It's a creature that literally devours magic. It drains the power of warlocks – usually as a punishment for defying the High Priestesses. _Mordred paused. _She wants to use it on you._

Merlin smiled grimly. _I'd gathered that._

_I think her words were, 'Arthur is nothing without Emrys, and Emrys is nothing without magic.'_

_I wouldn't let Arthur hear you say that._

_Ha!_

Merlin waited, knowing Mordred needed the company – even if it was only in his head. He dipped the scrubbing brush back into his pail of water and resumed cleaning the floor of Arthur's room. If Arthur came in and saw him just sitting there, he would surely set him some other task, even if it was Mordred taking up his attention.

_She's really changed, _Mordred said quietly. _I mean, obviously she's changed, but… she's a different person now. There's nothing left of the gentle Lady Morgana who saved me all those years ago. Only this… shell. A shell filled with anger._

Merlin's scrubbing slowed. _I know. I'm sorry you have to see it up close. But I only remember the old version of her, because you're right. This one isn't the same person. She deserves your pity, Mordred, but this Morgana does not deserve your grief._

_Yeah. _Merlin felt Mordred's lingering sadness down the bond – as they spoke more often, Merlin could feel it growing stronger, becoming more attuned to their emotions. _I need to go. You'll be careful, won't you?_

_Of course, _Merlin assured him. _You will too?_

_I will. Update tomorrow?_

_Same time as usual?_

_Sure._

_Good luck._

_And you._

Mordred broke the connection, leaving Merlin alone with his brush and his bucket. Sighing, Merlin got back to work, drawing darker circles in the light stone with the brush.

A while later, he heard the door creak open. Looking up, he saw Arthur crossing to his desk. Picking up a small pouch of coins, Arthur said, 'We're heading to your favourite place.'

Merlin frowned, throwing his brush into the bucket and standing up. 'What?'

Arthur tossed the pouch from one hand to the other. 'The tavern, Merlin. Your favourite place.'

Merlin blinked. 'What?'

Arthur shook his head in exasperation. 'Gaius told me. All your late nights, missed duties – that's where you were. Don't deny it.'

Merlin snorted. 'You think that with all the work you give me, I have time to go to the tavern? I'm either here or sleeping, usually.'

'Then why would Gaius – oh,' Arthur said, with the look of someone who has just realised something very obvious. 'You weren't in the tavern when you didn't show up in the morning.'

Merlin shook his head slowly.

'You were doing your magic thing, weren't you?'

Merlin nodded, mouth curving into a grin.

'Of course.' Arthur's eyes raised to the ceiling as he sighed in defeat. 'Whatever.' He looked back at Merlin. 'You're coming with us this time.'

* * *

Arthur shook the dice pot, confidence rolling off his relaxed posture, arrogant smile, and raised eyebrow.

'Three,' he called, throwing the dice. They rattled around on the table before coming to a stop. A two and a one. The crowd cheered as Merlin looked unimpressed.

'Feel free to retire any time now,' Arthur said.

'Likewise.' Merlin scooped up the dice.

Arthur held up his hands placatingly. 'It's no disgrace for a servant to lose to his king.'

Merlin looked up at Arthur through his eyelashes, his attention still mostly on the dice. 'Or a king to his servant.'

The crowd laughed, a few jeers mixed in, depending on which player they were supporting. Merlin added a few coins to the pile they were playing for.

'Watch out, here we go,' Arthur said. Merlin didn't gamble often, but he was quite good when he wanted to be.

Of course, he had a secret weapon.

He shook the dice pot, blowing on it for luck. 'Ten,' he called, as his eyes flashed gold for a second.

Two fives. The crowd cheered again as Arthur pretended to be annoyed, confident in his ability to beat his servant. 'Enjoy this moment, Merlin, while it lasts.'

He shook the pot, the dice rattling around inside it until he threw them, calling 'Twelve' as he did.

Merlin coughed, a tickle suddenly invading his throat. The crowd yelled in disappointment as they saw the result of Arthur's throw – a three and a one.

Arthur glared at him. 'You put me off!'

'What are you talking about?'

'You just coughed!' His indignant tone made Merlin want to laugh, but he knew he couldn't get away with that. Instead, he looked at the crowd, eyebrows raised, like, _Can you believe this guy?_

'I was clearing my throat.'

'You just coughed, deliberately.' For a fairly smart king, Arthur was doing a great job of getting the crowd on Merlin's side for him.

'Ugh,' Merlin said, a hand over his heart. 'I knew you'd discover my secret in the end. There is just no fooling you, A- my lord,' he caught himself. No matter that most of the crowd was made up of their friends – knights, mostly. He would be in enough trouble as it was, without calling his king by his given name in front of a full tavern.

The crowd was howling with laughter now, and Arthur's scowl just set them off further. Deciding he'd had enough fun with that joke, Merlin pushed his remaining coins onto the pile they were playing for. He held one back, as though considering keeping it, then threw it onto the pile as well.

'It's like that, is it?' Arthur said. He followed suit, pushing his own coins into the now-hefty pile.

Merlin scooped up the dice, shaking the pot one more time. 'Twelve,' he called. His eyes sparked gold as he threw the dice.

Two sixes.

The crowd went wild. Merlin punched the air, but then met Arthur's narrowed eyes. He didn't look angry, just suspicious. Merlin shot him a tiny, mildly apologetic smile, then turned back to the crowd, bowing exaggeratedly before scooping the pile of coins into his pockets.

'Merlin?' a voice asked.

Merlin looked up to see Gwaine standing by his shoulder. The latter leaned in to whisper in his ear. 'You were cheating, right?'

Merlin's eyes widened. He placed his hand over his heart in feigned innocence. 'Me? I would never.'

Gwaine threw back his head and laughed. 'That's my boy!' He slung an arm over Merlin's shoulders and pulled him towards the bar. 'I think that deserves a drink.'

Merlin grinned. Spying Arthur standing slightly out of the way, talking to Leon, Merlin reached out and grabbed his arm. 'How about I buy you a drink – with your own money?' he added cheekily.

Arthur gave him a look that said, _Don't push your luck_. 'Well, if you're offering.'

* * *

It was well past midnight when the group staggered back to the castle. Merlin split off from the others when they reached the main entrance, heading for his room on the ground floor as the others climbed the stairs to their own quarters. Arthur had let him leave straight away – 'The state you're in, you'll be even clumsier than normal. I'll take my chances myself, thanks.'

Merlin managed to get into Gaius's workroom without making too much noise, but then, almost to his room, he tripped over a chair, making a huge clatter. Thankfully, Gaius merely grunted, turning over in his sleep, then settled down, not waking up.

Merlin climbed the few steps to his room, ducking under the doorway automatically – even several tankards of ale couldn't break years of habit – before collapsing onto his bed. He yanked off one boot, dropping it by his bed, then pulled the other one off.

That's when something hit him in the face.

He yelled, flailing with his boot as he tried to hit the thing before he could attack him again. It made contact, sending the thing flying back a foot or two, before it tried to come back.

Before it could, however, Gaius burst in, wielding a spade. The metal implement connected with a satisfying thunk, and the thing – whatever it was – fell to the ground, dead.

Merlin dropped his boot, panting from a mixture of exertion and terror. His head was suddenly completely clear – the adrenaline, at least for the moment, eliminating the alcohol from his brain. He was shaking.

Gaius poked the thing with the spade. 'What _was_ that?'

'I –' Merlin began, before an awful thought occurred to him. 'Oh, no.'

He tried to focus, concentrating on the glass of water by his bed. He muttered a spell, his eyes glowing gold, and the glass floated towards him, a little unsteady from his shaking hands, but definitely floating.

Merlin caught it, taking a long drink, then set it down, sighing in relief. His shoulders slumped as he sat heavily on his bed. He looked up, realising Gaius was staring at him.

'What is it?'

Merlin rubbed his eyes. 'Mordred warned me. It was the Gean Canach. He said it drains magic from those who wield it. I knew Morgana was sending it here – I just didn't think it would come so soon.'

'Who got it in here?' Gaius asked, automatically looking around as if the culprit might be lurking behind the door.

'I don't know. But Morgana thinks that my magic is gone. I don't want to tip her off that she's wrong, so we can't go digging.'

Gaius scowled, unhappy at the prospect of leaving one of Morgana's agents to roam free in Camelot. 'So what are you going to do?'

Merlin yawned. 'For now, I'm going to bed – once I've done this.' He snapped his fingers, and the body of the Gean Canach burst into flame. It burned for a few seconds, then crumbled to ash. 'As for everything else – that's tomorrow's problem.'

Gaius lifted his spade, heading out the door. 'Goodnight, Merlin.'

'Night, Gaius.'

* * *

In the morning, Merlin was woken by Gaius shouting, which was probably fair, given that Merlin had done the same to him the night before. A wry smile had barely appeared on his face before it was fading, however, as he realised what Gaius was saying.

'The garrison at Stawell was attacked!'

Merlin swung himself out of bed, ducking through to the main room. 'Morgana?'

Gaius gathered a few rolls of bandages, alongside several vials of medicine, tucking them into his bag, then started packing another set for Merlin. 'It would seem so. Get _dressed_,' he barked, before continuing his explanation. 'It cannot be a coincidence. She picked the moment she thought you would be the most helpless to begin her attack.'

Back in his room, Merlin pulled his shirt over his head. He yanked a new one on, then fumbled for a clean pair of breeches. Tugging on his boots, almost putting them on the wrong feet as he tried to hurry, he said, 'What are we going to do?'

'Well, for the moment, you're going to help me treat the wounded. Don't use your magic – your skill as a physician will be fine, and we don't want to tip off Morgana that her plan failed.' Gaius passed him his bag, then hurried to the main courtyard, where the injured had been brought, Merlin hard on his heels.

The next few hours were a blur. Sometimes alone, sometimes with Gaius's help, Merlin bandaged cuts, splinted bones, and checked bruises. Most of the wounded would be fine, recovered in a few days, but others would be out of action for a while.

It was almost midday when Merlin stopped for a moment to catch his breath. He'd only been sat down for a minute or two, pinching the bridge of his nose to alleviate the headache that was starting to form between his eyebrows, when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

He looked up to see Gwaine glancing worriedly behind him. Merlin frowned, giving him a cursory glance to check for wounds. 'What is it? Are you hurt?'

Gwaine shook his head. 'Not me. A girl from Stawell. I saved her, then she saved me, but she got a nasty cut on her leg. Would you have a look?'

Merlin let out a long breath, hauling himself back to his feet. 'Of course.'

Gwaine led him to a young woman sitting in the sunshine, out of the way of the knights and assorted servants bustling around. Her blonde hair curled halfway down her back, and her bright eyes softened when she saw Gwaine coming towards her. She tried to smile, but her mouth twisted in pain as she moved her leg.

'This is Merlin,' Gwaine said as the young physician knelt in front of her. He inspected her leg, then poured a small amount of one of Gaius's medicines over it to clean the wound. She hissed.

'Sorry. Almost done,' he said, producing a bandage – one of his last. He would have to go back to Gaius's rooms to grab some more.

'Don't worry,' Gwaine said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. 'Merlin knows what he's doing.'

Merlin quickly bandaged her leg. He tied it off, then stood to leave.

The girl turned back to Gwaine. 'Do you have news from Stawell?' she asked. 'Have you heard from my family?'

Gwaine glanced uneasily at Merlin, who met his gaze steadily. He'd heard the rumours flying around the courtyard as he'd crossed from one knight to another. 'Eira, your family… the people of your town… You're the only one who survived the attack.'

Eira's eyes widened in shock. 'I – alone?'

Gwaine took her hand gently, kneeling in front of her. 'I'm sorry, Eira. Whatever happens, you'll be safe here in Camelot. You have my word.'

Eira smiled sadly. 'Thank you,' she said softly, her fingers tightening around Gwaine's.

As he went to find his next patient, Merlin didn't miss the smitten look that crossed Gwaine's face as the knight looked at the woman he'd saved.

* * *

_Stawell. What happened?_ The message came as Merlin hurried through the corridors towards the council chambers.

_Almost everyone died. Gwaine managed to save a girl – Eira, I think_. Merlin swung round a corridor, then bounded up a flight of stairs two at a time. _How did you not know about this?_

_I would have told you if I did, I swear, _Mordred insisted. _Morgana told me nothing. She sent out a unit of soldiers, and they came back this morning, reporting success. Only then did she say they had attacked Stawell._

_I believe you, _Merlin said. _Does Morgana not trust you yet?_

Mordred hesitated. _I don't think so. I need to give her more – prove that my allegiance has changed. What can I tell her that sounds important but isn't crucial?_

Merlin rounded another corner, coming to the door of the council chambers. _I'm not sure. Arthur will know – I'll ask him as soon as I can._

_Good luck, _Mordred said. A second later, he was gone.

Merlin opened the door, slipping through the gap. The meeting hadn't started yet, so he made his way to Arthur, who was talking to Leon. Catching the king's eye, he nodded subtly at the side of the room, out of earshot of the others.

Arthur excused himself from Leon, then joined Merlin.

'What?'

Merlin didn't waste time. 'Mordred needs information – something interesting but not crucial. Morgana doesn't quite trust him yet – we need to fix that.'

Arthur nodded. 'I'll think of something.' He glanced back at the other knights, all assembling at the Round Table. 'Here we go.'

Arthur swept to his seat, allowing Gwen to sit first, then taking his own. This was normal. What was less normal was Arthur gesturing to take the seat to his right, rather than standing behind him. Merlin's eyebrows drew together, but he didn't say anything. He sat, ignoring the glances some of the knights exchanged as they followed suit.

'Sir Leon,' Arthur said formally. 'Report.'

'A force of Saxons, sire. They crossed the northern border last night and attacked the garrison at Stawell.'

'They march under Morgana's command?'

'There can be no doubt about it, sire. They flew her flag,' Gwaine said. 'And it was not only soldiers we faced. Sorcery also played a part.'

Merlin's ears pricked at that. He leaned forward, hoping he would have the chance to ask Gwaine about the sorcerers later.

'We shouldn't be surprised,' Arthur said. 'She's been massing an army for weeks. Now, with Stawell taken, she has a base at our northern border, which can only mean one thing.'

'She means to take Camelot.' Gwen spoke quietly, but no one could say they didn't hear her. The queen didn't speak often in council meetings, but when she did, people tended to listen.

'Then she's already made her first mistake,' Percival said, ignoring the darker tone the meeting had taken.

'We have sufficient time to prepare our defences, sire.' Leon looked over his notes – as Captain of Camelot's knights, he had the lists of wounded, stocks of food and water, inventories of weapons. 'We can make our stand here. However great her army, the walls of Camelot will hold. The citadel will not fall.'

'Perhaps. Perhaps not.' Arthur leaned back in his chair, tapping the table with a finger. 'We've already deserted Stawell. I won't forsake the people of this land while we take refuge here.' Though his posture was casual, Merlin could tell the effort it was costing him to stay calm. Morgana was threatening his people. Arthur could forgive many things – but not that.

'We can protect them here, sire, in Camelot itself,' Percival argued.

'Some, but not all. Countless men, women and children will be left behind. People I vowed to protect.' Arthur's tone brooked no argument.

But Percival pushed anyway. 'We cannot save everyone, Arthur, no matter how much we may wish it.'

Merlin winced. At least Percival had the grace to look embarrassed at the bluntness of his words.

Arthur leaned forward. 'There is a way. One way alone. We ensure that she never makes it this far.'

Percival caught on first. 'We ride out and meet them?'

Arthur nodded. 'Man to man.'

'But sire, Morgana commands an army of thousands,' Leon protested.

'Nonetheless –' Arthur began.

'Call on the magic-users,' Merlin said.

Everyone turned to look at him, an equally flabbergasted expression on each of their faces – other than Gwaine, who was smirking, and Arthur, who was intrigued.

Merlin tried to push down his embarrassment. 'Call on the magic-users. Most of them do not support Morgana. Their lives are as much at stake as ours. Even if they don't march with us, they can defend their villages. Or Camelot, if any still live here. But any village that is defended is one more that we don't need to worry about.' Merlin met Arthur's intent gaze. 'We cannot make them. But if they want to help – why not ask them?'

Arthur looked thoughtful. Then he nodded slowly. 'If we are to show that magic is truly accepted in Camelot, we must make the first step. We will ask,' he said, 'even though they owe us nothing. But without them, we may not succeed.' He stood, the others following his lead. 'Whatever the outcome of this battle, my sister cannot and will not hurt anyone we can protect. If that means they help us to do it,' his eyes slid to Merlin's, 'so be it.'

'The war has begun.'

* * *

Down in the armoury, Arthur's inner court was gathered, poring over a map of Camelot and the surrounding kingdoms. Merlin stood back from the table which the others surrounded, listening intently, though he was officially only there as Arthur's servant, should the king need anything.

'To reach Camelot, Morgana will have no choice but to cross the White Mountains,' Arthur said, running his finger along the northern border of the kingdom. 'Now, the only pass that gives passage to an army that size is here.' He unrolled a new map on top of the first, this time focused on the mountain range itself.

'I know it well,' Percival said. 'The path is bounded by cliffs on either side.' Merlin stretched up on his toes so he could glimpse where Percival was pointing. It was a small, winding pass, from what he could see.

Arthur nodded. 'That's where we will meet them. Now, we may be outnumbered, but if we don't let them outflank us, then we can hold the pass.'

Leon pursed his lips. 'For how long? Morgana has no care for the lives of her men.'

'She can't supply an army of that size indefinitely, not isolated by the mountains,' Arthur said. 'If we can hold out long enough, she'll be forced to retreat.' He looked back down at the map, clearly trying to plan something. 'Percival, at what point is the pass at its narrowest?'

Percival considered the question, then marked the point on the map with his finger. 'Here, sire.'

'What do they call this place?'

'Camlann, sire.'

A buzzing filled Merlin's ears. 'What?' he said faintly.

The others turned to look at him – Gwen with concern, Leon and Percival frowning, Gwaine with a raised eyebrow, and Arthur – he wasn't expressionless, but his face was unreadable.

'Camlann,' Percival repeated.

Merlin leaned back against the wall, the energy leaking out of him. The others were growing increasingly worried, he could tell, but he couldn't stop himself. Everything he'd risked, everything Mordred was risking, and still, it might not be enough.

He forced himself to straighten, 'I'm alright. I just… will you excuse me?' This last he directed to Arthur, who was still staring at him.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. 'We're finished here, anyway. Do you need to go to Gaius?'

Merlin blinked, realising what Arthur was offering. 'Yes, I think so. Just a dizzy spell, but he'll want to do some tests.'

Arthur nodded curtly. He dismissed the others, and they left first, Gwen with a quick whisper, the others with respectful nods. Then Merlin and Arthur were alone.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. 'Dizzy spell?'

'That part was true.' Merlin took a steadying breath. 'That place… it took me by surprise, that's all.'

'Camlann?' Arthur's voice was wary.

Merlin nodded. 'I have heard of it before. Only once, but it made an impression.'

Arthur tilted his head to the side curiously. 'Why?'

Merlin grimaced. 'I can tell you. But once you know, that's it. There is no unknowing it.'

The king leaned against the table, thinking. Merlin was glad – that Arthur appreciated the value of Merlin's warning, that he didn't just impulsively want to know.

Arthur met his gaze, unwavering. 'Tell me.'

'There is a prophecy. I only heard its words recently, but it has been known for generations. It says a great battle is coming, and that it will be fought at Camlann.' Merlin paused, unwilling to continue, but Arthur merely waited for him to go on. 'It says it will be your last battle.'

Arthur breathed in sharply, then bit his tongue. His expression shifted, from curious, to angry, to bitter, to wistful, to calm. In the space of mere seconds, Merlin watched Arthur try to process his own death.

'Okay,' Arthur said. 'Okay.' He shut his eyes, head bowed.

Merlin was silent. If Arthur wanted to talk, he was there. If he didn't – well, Merlin wasn't going anywhere. As the silence stretched out into minutes, Merlin stared at his king – his friend, the person he would lay down his life for, if he could. He took in his strong arms, the muscled curve of his back, the strands of hair falling into his eyes. The determined set of his jaw even as he grappled with death. The slant of his eyes. The arch of his eyebrow.

Merlin stopped himself, realising what he was doing. He was trying to commit him to memory: if Arthur truly was to die soon, and Merlin was immortal – that would be a long time to live without his best friend. He didn't want to forget him, clotpole that he was.

Arthur let out a long breath, then looked back at Merlin. 'I knew there was a risk. Now, at least I can prepare for… if the prophecy is correct.'

Merlin tried to smile, to say something to acknowledge it, to apologise, _anything_, but he couldn't find the words. Instead, he stepped forward and hugged his king.

Arthur almost took a step back in surprise, but stopped himself. Warily, he hugged Merlin back.

Because what else can you do, when you know you're about to die?

* * *

'He cannot go, Merlin. You will have to persuade him,' Gaius insisted.

Merlin shook his head ruefully at his mentor. 'I know Arthur better than I know myself. He won't listen.'

'If Arthur goes to Camlann, the prophecy will come true and he will die.' The pain in Gaius's voice reminded Merlin that, no matter how much he loved Arthur, Gaius had seen him grow up, from a baby to a king.

'This battle is the only way he knows how to save his people. He knows he is to die, but he will go anyway. He's choosing to give his life for his kingdom. Who am I to deny him that?' Merlin stared at the floor, willing himself to keep a tether on his emotions. He could grieve later, if it came to that. Now, he had to try to save his king.

'Then what are we to do?' Gaius asked.

Merlin's gaze flicked up. 'I must protect him as best I can.'

Gaius frowned. 'Morgana tried to take away your magic. She thinks you're helpless. You can't just go to Camlann and use your powers – she'll know there is a spy in her ranks, and Mordred's life will be in danger.'

Merlin nodded slowly, thinking. 'If I _had_ lost my magic, I would be trying to get it back, right? So I would need to leave Camelot.'

'Correct,' Gaius said warily.

'And travel to a powerful place of magic, in the hopes that I could retrieve my powers.'

'Where are you going with this, Merlin?'

'If all that were true, where would I go?'

Gaius considered. 'The Crystal Cave, I suppose.'

Merlin smiled. 'And what else is between here and the Crystal Cave? And around the Cave, for that matter?'

Gaius frowned, but his expression cleared in sudden understanding. 'Oh. That might work.'

Merlin headed for his room to start packing for his trip. 'I thought so, too.'

* * *

Merlin set out the last piece of armour with a flourish. 'I think you'll find that's everything, sire.'

'Impressive,' Arthur said. 'I've never seen work like it – well, not from you, anyway.' The corners of his mouth twitched as he tried to hide his smile.

Merlin rolled his eyes, making no effort to conceal it. 'Thank you, sire.'

The king folded his arms. 'So why the sudden pretence of being a semi-competent servant? You're not running out on me, are you?'

Merlin shook his head, ignoring the pang in his heart at the thought of missing even a few hours with Arthur as he put his plan into action. 'Not exactly. I'll meet you at Camlann – I just won't be travelling there with you.'

Arthur's smile faded. 'Why? What's happening?'

'Morgana tried to take my magic.'

Arthur's eyes widened in shock. 'What? How?'

'She sent a creature called the Gean Canach to suck it out of me. She failed,' he added hurriedly, turning his hand palm up and summoning a small fire to prove it. Arthur relaxed minutely, but his intense stare followed Merlin as he closed his hand, extinguishing the fire, and began pacing.

'But she will be expecting me to do something about it. If I just stayed here, she'd know something was wrong and might suspect she had a spy. I can't risk Mordred's life like that. So I'm going to travel to the Crystal Cave – the birthplace of magic,' he explained at Arthur's blank look. 'Or, at least, that's what it will look like. There are a lot of villages around there – villages I would bet had at least one or two sorcerers each. If I tell the village elders that Morgana is coming, they may be able to set up some basic defences, magical or otherwise. I'm also going to ask the sorcerers if they will join with us. we need all the help we can get,' he finished, stopping in front of Arthur.

'You've got this all figured out, haven't you?' Arthur said.

Merlin quirked an eyebrow. 'What's your point?'

Arthur made a face. 'If we get back, I'm promoting you. First your plan with Mordred, now this – and goodness knows what else you've been doing all these years. I wonder if having a warlock on the Council permanently would be such a bad thing.' His eyes met Merlin's shyly.

'A… Council seat?' Merlin blinked, reeling.

Arthur rolled his eyes. 'You might be the slowest person on the Council, but I can't say you wouldn't have earned a place there.'

Merlin swallowed, inordinately touched. 'I – thank you, Arthur.'

Arthur looked down, clearing his throat. 'Yes, well. You're a terrible servant, but you're a good man, Merlin.' He scrubbed a hand through his hair. 'Even after all the things we've faced… I've never been worried about dying.'

Merlin looked at him sharply. 'I don't think you should now. We're still here, now. You can't _give up_, Arthur.' At some point his voice had grown louder – not quite shouting, but definitely not speaking calmly. He modulated his voice. 'Things never turn out how you expect. You have to remember that.'

Arthur was staring at the wall. Merlin reached over and touched him on the shoulder. 'We'll defeat Morgana. Together.'

Arthur's gaze darted back to him, a small smile tugging at his lips. 'I appreciate that.' Then something flickered in his expression, and he crossed to his desk. Pulling out a drawer, he rooted around in the mess for a second – thankfully Merlin didn't have to clean or tidy the insides of that thing, that would be all he needed to give up completely – until he found what he was looking for. He brought it over to where Merlin was standing, watching him curiously.

'This belonged to my mother,' Arthur said, brushing his thumb over the object. It was round and flattish, but that was all Merlin could see. 'It bears her sigil.' He stroked it once more, then held it out to Merlin. 'Here.'

Merlin's hand moved automatically, but the implications of what Arthur meant hit him before he took it. 'Arthur, I can't.'

'Just,' Arthur insisted, his voice resolute, 'take it.'

Carefully, Merlin took it. Now that he could see it properly, he realised that it was a large brooch. A circle with a cross inside, and a bird with its wings slightly extended in the centre. It was beautiful and probably incredibly valuable, but that wasn't why he was reluctant to take it. It was what it meant – that Arthur saw him as family. That he trusted him with something so precious to him as one of the few things he still had of his mother.

That Arthur thought he would need something to remember him by.

'Thank you,' he said softly, for want of anything better.

Arthur looked at him solemnly. 'I'm leaving Gwen my signet ring. If something happens to me, she will ascend the throne. But I want you there too. Promise me, Merlin. Promise me you'll stay and help her rule – help her like you helped me.' Something in his voice seemed very fragile.

Merlin could never refuse his king. 'I promise.' He slipped the brooch into his pocket, then held his hand out to clasp Arthur's. 'I'll see you soon.'

Arthur nodded, then paused. 'You're not going alone, are you?'

'Gwaine's coming with me,' Merlin said. 'He thinks we're going to the Valley of the Fallen Kings. I'll tell him where we're really going after we've left.'

'Trying to save us _and_ sparing us from Gwaine's inane chatter for a day. A true hero,' Arthur quipped. Then he sobered again. 'You'll be careful, won't you?'

Merlin managed a tight smile. 'I always am.' With that, he left, heading for Gaius's chambers to collect his pack.

'Of course,' Arthur murmured, turning back to his desk. The piles of parchment that cluttered it blurred before he wiped his eyes roughly, unshed tears soaking his sleeve. Arthur shook himself. He had affairs to put in order – plans to make, orders to leave. It didn't matter what happened to him, so long as Camelot was safe.

* * *

Half an hour later, Merlin and Gwaine rode out of the citadel, heading west, towards the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Once they were out of the city, Merlin told Gwaine their real destination – to visit as many villages as possible, before camping near the Crystal Caves overnight, and then meeting Arthur and his army in the White Mountains the next day. The knight had pouted when he heard Merlin had lied to him, but quickly acknowledged that it had been a good plan. That way, no one would guess where they were really going, especially given that Merlin had been careful not to use his magic in the last couple of days (aside from with Arthur). He didn't use it often, in general, but it wasn't an uncommon sight anymore to see him levitating a cloth dust hard-to-reach places, or making piles of Arthur's clothes magically lighter as he carried them through the castle. Not big gestures, but little things that helped normalise the use of magic around Camelot.

And it had been working. There weren't many sorcerers left in Camelot – Uther's policies had seen to that – but more than once, he'd seen a cook cutting up vegetables as a pot of stew stirred itself, or a grocer catching a piece of fruit before it fell on the ground with a mere glare. Small steps, granted, but steps nonetheless.

Gwaine had barely shut up since they left. First commenting on the weather, then on Merlin's plan, then asking why they were pretending to go to the Crystal Caves, then just chattering about Eira.

'She's so lovely, Merlin. Brave and strong,' he flicked his hair out of his eyes, 'and beautiful. Like, really, really gorgeous.'

Merlin had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, though a smile played around his lips anyway. Yes, Eira was sweet. Yes, she probably missed him as much as he missed her. No, he didn't want to hear every sordid detail –

_Merlin?_

Merlin was instantly alert, blocking out Gwaine's voice as he prattled on. _Mordred? What is it?_

_Did Morgana actually take your magic?_ Mordred sounded frantic. _I warned you about the Gean Canach. And now you're going to the Crystal Caves, not even trying to cover your tracks –_

_Mordred_, Merlin said sharply. _Calm down. If I had lost my magic, would you be able to hear me?_

Mordred paused. _No_.

_But you can hear me. So I still have my magic. _

He heard Mordred let out a long breath. _Okay. Just… give me a second_.

Merlin slowed his horse, letting Gwaine go on ahead slightly. When Gwaine turned, checking he was alright, Merlin just flapped a hand, hoping he was conveying that everything was fine, he just needed a minute, rather than that he was swatting a fly.

_Okay_, Mordred repeated. _What happened?_

Merlin quickly related the events of the last two days, then outlined his plan. _We're heading for the outlying villages,_ he finished.

_So you're avoiding the Valley of the Fallen Kings, then? _Mordred asked.

_No_, Merlin replied. _We had to head this way to shake off suspicion, in case anyone saw us – that was the story those who needed to know anything were told. And anyway, there are several villages round here_.

Something changed in Mordred's tone. _Ah. That explains it._

_Explains what?_

_Why Morgana just received a report that you were going to the Valley with Gwaine._

_A report? _Merlin looked around, almost expecting a spy to emerge from the bushes. _From whom?_

_I'm not sure, _Mordred said apologetically. _A woman, blonde hair? _He thought for a second. _Evie? Elena?_

_Eira? _Merlin asked, his heart sinking.

_Yes! That's the one. Do you know her?_

Merlin looked over to his companion, now singing a lusty song about a girl with golden hair and blue, blue eyes. _She's the one Gwaine saved from Stawell._

Mordred understood immediately. _He's her source._

Merlin's eyebrows drew together. _He's smitten. If I tell him, he'll be heartbroken._

_Doesn't he deserve to know? _Mordred asked_. Better you tell him know and he can focus on the task at hand later, than that he's distracted by her later and can't concentrate._

_Won't this distract him more? _Merlin countered.

_You know Gwaine_, Mordred said wryly. _He'll smart for a bit, but he'll bounce back. He'll appreciate the honesty, Merlin. Trust me._

_Okay_, Merlin said reluctantly. _I should get it over with, shouldn't I?_

_Yes, you should. Good luck_, Mordred said, then cut the connection.

'C'mon, Merlin!' Gwaine called, a good fifty metres up ahead. Merlin clicked his horse forward, breaking into a trot to catch up. When he drew level, he slowed his horse again, so they walked side by side.

'You know, Merlin, I didn't actually thank you for helping Eira,' Gwaine said conversationally.

Merlin winced. 'About Eira… Gwaine, there's something you need to know.'

Gwaine frowned at the edge in his voice. 'What is it?'

Merlin took a deep breath, steeling himself. 'She's a spy. For Morgana.'

The knight laughed. 'Good one, Merlin.'

He didn't smile. 'I'm serious. I wish I weren't, but she's already told Morgana where we're heading. Or at least, where she thinks we're heading.'

Gwaine's smile faded, his horse slowing to a stop. Merlin copied him. 'She's a spy?'

Merlin's throat closed up at the look of pain spreading across his friend's face, so he just nodded.

So many expressions flitted across Gwaine's face that Merlin could barely follow – betrayal, anger, pain, disgust, sorrow, before he settled on anger again.

He made to swing his horse around. 'I'm going back.'

Merlin caught his arm, wobbling slightly on his horse. 'No, you're not.'

Gwaine glowered at him, but Merlin stood his ground. 'No good will come of her knowing we know yet. She may not realise it, but she had false information. When we see Arthur tomorrow, we can tell him and he can get a message back to Camelot to have her arrested. But for now, we have a job to do.'

Gwaine was still glaring at him, but Merlin could tell he saw he was right. After a minute, he sighed through his nose, trying to calm himself down, even though his eyebrows were still knitted together darkly. Merlin let go of his arm, then nudged his horse forward. To his relief, after a few seconds, he heard Gwaine's horse following him.

They travelled in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. But after a while, Gwaine spoke, his words harsher than normal as he tried to push his broken heart aside.

'How did you know she was a spy?'

Merlin made a face. He should have known Gwaine would ask that. Arthur was planning to tell the knights about Mordred's true allegiance at some point before the battle – the last thing they needed was for Leon or Percival to kill Mordred as he made his way back to Arthur. Telling Gwaine now might be just the thing he needed to take his mind off Eira.

'Mordred told me,' he said.

Gwaine's horse stopped short. Merlin stopped his own mount, turning in the saddle to look at his friend's baffled expression.

'What?' he said faintly.

'Mordred told me,' Merlin repeated. He watched as Gwaine tried to process this, and saw the exact moment when his brain gave up.

The knight gestured helplessly, his arms falling to his sides. 'What?'

Merlin hid a smile. 'He isn't a traitor. He's spying on Morgana for us. For Arthur. And I can talk to him, because he has magic too.'

Gwaine stared at him, mouth slack, strands of hair blowing across his face in the breeze. Merlin could tell how badly this had shaken him because he didn't instantly try to get his hair out of his eyes. The panicked look in his eyes was joined by fear for his friend, then relief that he could call Mordred that again, but was soon replaced by mild irritation.

The knight shook his head. 'Sneaky bastards, the pair of you.' With that, he clicked his horse forwards, a faint smile on his face.

Laughing quietly, Merlin followed him, glad he had managed to distract him, even if only for a while.

* * *

They visited a dozen villages that afternoon and the next morning. Thankfully the weather held – had it rained, fewer people would have come to listen to their message. But the warm sunshine stayed, bringing curious villagers out to see these bearers of strange tidings – including, Merlin noted, a pretty brunette who winked at Gwaine, and managed to draw a smirk and a quirked eyebrow from the knight, probably doing more for his broken heart than anything Merlin could say.

In some villages, Uther's influence was still strong – when Merlin asked, he was met with an upturned nose, a twisted mouth, and assurances that they didn't have anyone like _that _here, and if they did, they kept their _abilities_ hidden.

In others, they saw signs that magic was starting to be accepted. A little girl, maybe ten years old, sat by a pond, making shapes in the air with the water to make her brother laugh. A man stood like a scarecrow in a field as plants grew unnaturally quickly around him. A woman levitated bricks to fix the wall of a house, cementing them in place with a wave of her hand.

Merlin hated to break the fragile peace, but Camelot needed him to. Arthur needed him to.

In every village, he and Gwaine spoke to the people they found. They warned them that Morgana was coming. That Arthur was doing everything he could to stop her, but that it might not be enough. That they needed all the help they could get – for them to set up their own defences, to offer help to anyone who came in need of shelter.

But Merlin didn't stop there. Instead, he told them about Arthur.

Some villagers had seen him in a parade, or when he had visited their village when Uther was king to oversee tax collections, or when they travelled to Camelot themselves with grievances he had tried to help with. All of them remembered that he had been just and fair, and had done what he could for as many people as possible. But others had never seen him – the way his brow furrowed when he was thinking, how his head tilted when he listened to Gwen, or how he laughed whenever Merlin did something ridiculous. So Merlin told them of his king, whom he would do anything for. Who tolerated a servant who mouthed off and messed up and dropped _everything_, but whom he trusted with his life.

Then Gwaine stepped in, telling them how Arthur had befriended a penniless orphan whose only talents were fighting and drinking. How they had saved each other countless times. How Arthur had defied his father and knighted a group of outlaws because they were the only ones he trusted to save his kingdom.

Together, they told the story of Arthur. Then together, they asked these villagers to save him. To save the future he wanted to build.

And in every village, a villager stepped forward. Then another. And another. Some with magic, some without. But all willing to fight for their king – to fight for peace.

Each village promised to send a messenger to villages further away – the ones Gwaine and Merlin couldn't visit themselves.

Then said they would meet Arthur's army at Camlann.

So on Merlin went, Gwaine at his side, to the next village, then the next. Repeating the same message, over and over again.

_Arthur needs us. Help us save our king. _

* * *

Heart lighter than it had been in weeks, Merlin led the way to the route Arthur was meant to be taking to Camlann, where they were meant to meet the army before the battle.

'Come on!' he called over his shoulder. 'We're getting close!'

Gwaine grumbled something, but snapped his reins, making his horse speed up. Drawing level with Merlin, he said, 'You know, I think we might stand a chance.'

Merlin smiled. 'I hope so.'

A frenzied yell made their horses rear up suddenly. Merlin grabbed for his mount's mane, but he lost his grip and fell to the ground heavily. Gasping for air, he saw a pair of bandits charging towards them, on foot, but with nasty-looking swords that they wielded with ease.

Merlin raised his hand, intending to disable them with his magic, but remembered he was meant to have lost his powers. If they were dead, it would be fine, but if they survived, or if they had friends watching, and it got back to Morgana, she would know something was wrong.

All this flashed through his head in a split-second, but when one bandit barrelled towards him, all he could think to do was scream, 'Gwaine!'

And suddenly the knight was there, sword a silver blur in his hand, slicing one way, then the other, until the thug fell at Merlin's feet. The other man came up behind Gwaine, but the knight barely glanced his way before he too was dead.

Gwaine sheathed his sword in his belt, then held his hand out. 'You rely on that magic of yours a lot more than you let on, don't you?'

Merlin let him pull him to his feet. 'Perhaps.' He glanced at the two bodies slumped on the ground. 'Not that you needed any help.'

Gwaine smiled briefly. 'It was the least I could do. Be actually useful, for once.' His forlorn tone sent pangs through Merlin's heart. Gwaine was endlessly optimistic, cheerful one who trusted staunchly in his own abilities, and those of others, almost to the point of irritation. But now… the revelation that his trust in Eira was misplaced must really have shaken him.

But there wasn't much Merlin could say to comfort him. Instead, he squeezed his shoulder and headed back for his horse. 'Come on. We're almost there.'

* * *

An hour later, they caught up with the tail end of Arthur's army. They overtook the supply carts, urging their tired horses on until they reached Arthur and the knights surrounding him as they decided where to camp for the night.

'Percival?' Arthur asked, deferring to the knight who knew the most about the area.

Percival thought for a moment, then said, 'There's a plateau nearby – maybe a mile or so away? It's just on this side of the passage through the mountains. It's close to the pass, so when the battle comes, we won't have far to go, and it's easily defensible.' He shrugged. 'It's as good a place as any.'

Arthur nodded. 'Lead the way.'

Percival bowed and returned to his horse. Gwaine brought his own mount up beside him, and together they rode on ahead to scout the plain, Percival for once more talkative than his friend, which Gwaine seemed to appreciate. Merlin, for his part, steered his horse between the knights until he was near Arthur. When the king saw the look on his face, he nodded imperceptibly, then gave a series of orders to the knights around him, sending them off in different directions until he and Merlin were alone – well, as alone as they could be in the middle of a marching army.

Arthur nudged his horse next to Merlin's. 'Well?'

Merlin allowed himself a small smile. 'They're coming.'

Something in Arthur relaxed as his shoulders untensed. 'That's good. That's… good.'

Merlin was itching to ask what had happened in the time he'd been gone, but he had more news himself. 'We also have a spy. I know who it is,' he added hurriedly, seeing Arthur's troubled expression. 'The girl Gwaine saved at Stawell. She knew we were going to the Valley of the Fallen Kings – or at least, she thought that was where we were going, because that's what Gwaine thought. But she reported to Morgana yesterday.'

Arthur chewed his lip, thinking. 'Morgana will have sent men to cut you off. There's no way she would risk you getting your magic back. When they don't find you –'

'She'll know something is wrong,' Merlin finished for him. 'That's what I thought. But her suspicions shouldn't land on Mordred. If anything, she'll suspect Eira – she's the one who gave her the wrong information. So unless she thinks Mordred was somehow complicit, he should be safe.'

Arthur let out a long breath. 'But if you aren't there, she's going to ask why. The only reason you wouldn't be there is if you still had your magic, and you would only still have your magic if you had been warned she was trying to take it. And I would bet that the only person in her court who knows both you and that plan is Mordred.'

Arthur's horrified expression matched Merlin's own fear. 'He needs to get out of there.'

Arthur shook his head sombrely. 'It's too late for that. All we can do is hope she doesn't realise the link before the battle. If he can get back to us, he'll be safe.'

Merlin grimaced. 'Speaking of which – you need to tell the knights he's still on our side.' A shadow crossed his face. 'Well, except for Gwaine. I ended up telling him earlier – when I broke his heart.'

Arthur blinked. 'What now?'

Merlin almost laughed at the shock on Arthur's face. 'The girl he saved. The spy. He's grown fond of her, so her betrayal really hurt him. He wanted to ride straight back to Camelot and confront her. I convinced him to stay, but only on the condition that as soon as we reached you, you would send a messenger for her to be arrested. Can you get a message to Gwen?'

'And what would that message say, exactly?' a light voice asked. Merlin twisted in his saddle, to see Gwen herself on her horse, returning to Arthur's side, having gone to speak with Gaius.

Merlin inclined his head. 'We have a spy in Camelot, who has betrayed us to Morgana, and would readily do so again.'

Gwen raised an eyebrow. 'So, the usual problems?'

'The usual,' Merlin agreed. 'I had hoped you would still be in Camelot to have her arrested, but it can wait.'

Gwen glanced at her husband. 'I preferred not to waste the last days we may have all together stuck at home, staring out the window, waiting for my friends who may not return.'

Arthur shook his head, rolling his eyes disbelievingly. 'She met us in the courtyard, already dressed for a long journey, and was almost off before I could ask what she was doing.'

'You were too busy ordering knights around,' she said innocently, a mischievous gleam in her eye. 'I didn't want to get in the way and risk diverting your attention.'

Arthur's answering smile was sad. 'My attention is on you, no matter how busy I am.'

Gwen smiled shyly, but the moment was ruined when a knight rushed towards Arthur and almost made Merlin fall off his horse.

'My lord.' He bowed. 'Message from Sir Percival. The plateau seems to be a good place to camp, and appears secure. He and Sir Gwaine request further orders.'

Arthur nodded solemnly. 'Tell Sir Percival and Sir Gwaine to await our arrival, and to start setting up camp as each section reaches the plateau.'

'Sire.' The knight saluted, then rode off again, back the way he had come.

Arthur turned to his companions. 'Battle approaches, it appears.'

'Indeed,' said Gwen. 'I only hope that morning will bring victory, not sorrow.'

Arthur met Merlin's gaze for a second, then looked away. 'As do I.'

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**I'm so sorry it's taken so long to update – the last few weeks of uni were hellish, and then Coronavirus, and then I have so much work to do at home, so it's been kind of a mess. I'm hoping the next chapter will be up sooner, but it's probably going to be quite long, and my dissertation is due in three weeks, so I have no idea. **

**Hope you enjoyed this (slightly longer) chapter. If you did, leave a review – I love reading them! If not, leave a review anyway – I really do want to improve.**

**Love,**

**NewtPevensie xoxoxox**


	9. The Diamond of the Day - Part 2

**Warning: This chapter contains mentions of violence that are more explicit than previous chapters (though nothing worse than what is in the show itself).**

...

Once he'd helped set up Arthur and Gwen's tent, Merlin spent the rest of the day with Gaius and Gwen. The queen would not join them on the battlefield; instead, she would stay with Gaius, tending to the wounded.

Their afternoon was pleasant enough, spent cutting bandages and preparing poultices and medicines that Gaius hadn't managed to bring with him, or were too volatile to transport. The day before a battle, Merlin would normally be running around like a madman, carrying messages and making preparations for Arthur, but Arthur had agreed that he should rest and conserve as much energy as possible before the battle. They had gone over the plan several times, and each time Arthur wanted to know more about what, exactly, Merlin was planning to do.

Merlin couldn't tell him. 'I honestly don't know. It depends on so many things – when the Saxons arrive, where Morgana is, what Mordred is doing, when the other sorcerers come… but it will be something.'

Each time, Arthur looked like he wanted to argue, but held his tongue, accepting that some things were out of his control. At least he trusted Merlin to get the job done.

That evening, after eating the stew Merlin made, Arthur called Gwen, Gwaine, Leon, Percival, Gaius and Merlin into his tent. Merlin took one look at Arthur's face and guessed what this meeting of Camelot's Inner Court was for.

'Tomorrow, we will meet Morgana and her army in battle. But tonight, we celebrate – and remember. Those we have lost, and those we are fighting for.' Arthur gestured to a platter of goblets filled with wine. 'Help yourselves.'

Gwaine, unsurprisingly, was the first to grab a cup, the others following suit.

Arthur raised his. 'To Camelot.'

'To Elyan,' Gwen said.

'To Lancelot,' Leon added.

Percival hesitated, then said, 'To Mordred.'

Leon's gaze cut to him, confusion and anger mingling on his face. Percival raised the hand not holding his wine in surrender. 'I know he isn't dead, just – he's as lost to us as the others.'

Arthur coughed. 'About that.' His eyes met Merlin's, who nodded once.

'Mordred isn't actually working for Morgana. He's a spy – our spy.'

Leon, Percival and Gwen all froze. Percival's goblet hung in the air, halfway to his mouth. Leon's eyebrows seemed to be trying to meet in the middle of his forehead, while Gwen's wine was pouring slowly onto the ground as her hands hung by her sides. The silence grew as Arthur waited for them to say something, until –

'You should see your faces.'

The spell was broken by Gwaine's grinning voice. Irreverent as always, he took a sip of his wine, then gestured with his free hand. 'My lady, your wine is spilling.'

The other suddenly came back to themselves, asking questions all at once.

'Is he safe?'

'Does Morgana trust him?'

'Do we know we can still trust him?'

'How is he spying for us? How can we get messages to him?'

As Arthur fielded their questions as best he could, Merlin slipped round them to grab the bottle of wine from the table behind Arthur. This might be a long night.

* * *

Several hours later, they all retreated to their own tents to snatch as much sleep as they could before the battle the next day.

Merlin shared a tent with Gaius, Merlin with his bedroll that had travelled with him all over the Five Kingdoms, while Gaius, as both the Court Physician and an ageing friend of the king, had been allocated a small cot. In the darkness of the tent, Merlin said, as he had almost every night of the last ten years, 'Night, Gaius.'

'Goodnight, Merlin.'

So Merlin closed his eyes in that little tent, on the night before the world might change forever, and drifted off to sleep. And as he slept, he dreamed.

'Merlin.'

A voice he recognised, and one he hadn't heard in years. It took him a moment to place it, but when he did, he turned to where the voice had come from. 'Father?'

Balinor faced him, skin tinted blue from the lights of the cavern in which they stood. 'Son.'

'How are you here? Why are you here?' The questions slipped out of him, but then he shook himself, asking a much more fundamental one. 'Are you here? Are you alive?'

Balinor's face did not change – a reassuringly steady presence after the confusion of the last few days. 'Dead or alive, real or imagined, past or present – these things are of no consequence. All that matters is that you heed the words of your father who loves you.' His slow, deep voice added a solemnity to his already grave words. 'Do not give up, Merlin. Do not give in. Even when the world is darkest, light remains.'

Merlin frowned, taking a step towards his father. 'I don't understand. I haven't given up.' A cold dread gripped his heart. 'Do you mean tomorrow?' He swallowed. 'Are you talking about Arthur?'

Something flickered in Balinor's gaze. 'When the time comes, you must ride for Avalon. The Hollow Hill. He will wait for you there.'

'What do you mean? Who will wait for me?' Merlin's voice grew shriller as his fear for Arthur threatened to overwhelm him. 'Is there no hope?' he whispered.

Balinor scowled. 'There is always hope,' he insisted, covering the distance between them in a moment. He raised his hand, resting it for a moment against Merlin's cheek. Merlin took a deep breath, closing his eyes and taking comfort from his father's presence. Instead of the cool insubstantiality he might expect from Balinor's ghostly appearance, his hands were rough and callused, but warm and gentle. 'Rest now, my son. Rest. For your greatest trial is still to come.'

The dream faded to black as Merlin slipped deeper into sleep.

_MERLIN!_

Merlin bolted upright, shocked from slumber by a shout. He looked around wildly, trying to find the source of the noise, before realising he had heard it in his head, not with his ears.

_Mordred? What is it?_

_You need to warn Arthur now_. Mordred's agitation was clear. _There's a path over the ridge of the mountain that will let Morgana outflank your army. She's sending a hundred men – good ones. It's a trap. Tell him now!_

Merlin was out from under his blanket in an instant. He ran for Arthur's tent, not bothering to stop and put on shoes. The guards outside the tent tried to block his path, but as the light from the torches lit his face, they allowed him through. He yanked the tent flap open.

'Arthur!'

'What?' Gwen said sleepily. A small part of Merlin was unhelpfully glad that Arthur tended to be less grumpy when he was woken if Gwen was around.

'Apologies, my lady,' Merlin said. His voice shifted. 'Arthur,' he snapped. 'Get up. _Now_.'

Something in his tone told the king whatever was wrong, it was serious. He tried to leap out of bed, but almost got caught in the sheets. Normally Merlin would have been stifling a laugh, but there was nothing remotely amusing about the current circumstances.

'It's Mordred. He says Morgana is sending men down an old path over the ridge at Camlann. She plans to trap us here. If they get to the path, we'll be outflanked and we won't stand a chance. We need to find the path.'

Arthur stared at him, his brain trying to catch up. A second later, he nodded, then made to leave the tent.

Outside, Leon strode over to them. 'Sire! The scouts report that Morgana's army is on the move.'

'She'll attack before the night is done,' Arthur said grimly. 'Tell the men to prepare.'

'Yes, sire.' And Leon was gone, cloak snapping behind him.

'Percival! Gwaine!' Arthur called. In seconds, they joined him, fully armed and ready for battle. Neither looked to have slept – or if they had, it had only been for a couple of hours. Merlin guessed by the tinge of navy in the otherwise black sky that it must be about two or three hours after midnight. Coming up for the Witching Hour. Merlin smiled grimly to himself. How appropriate.

'Take a patrol of men to the rear of us. You're looking for a hidden path running into the mountains. Morgana means to outflank us. Find and neutralise her men.'

'Yes, sire,' Percival said. Gwaine merely grinned, a dangerous gleam in his eye. They headed off, calling for knights and soldiers around them, gathering a force to search for the path.

Arthur turned to Merlin. 'To war.'

Merlin nodded. 'To war.'

* * *

Arthur looked out over his gathered army. He wore his armour like a second skin, moving in it as easily as a shirt and trousers, as he always had. A warrior, born and bred. It was clear in the way he moved, even the way he breathed. Merlin often forgot how deadly his friend was, but here, leading an army into battle, it was obvious.

'Tonight, we do battle. Tonight, we end this war.' Arthur spoke directly to his men, meeting their gazes with his own determined stare. 'We end a war as old as the land itself. A war against tyranny, greed, and spite. Not all will meet the dawn. Some will live, and some will die.'

Merlin tried to believe Arthur wouldn't be one of them.

'But each and every one of you fights with honour and with pride. For not only do we fight for our lives; we fight for the future. The future of Camelot. The future of Albion. The future of the united kingdoms.' He drew his sword, raising it in the air, moonlight gleaming off the blade. 'For the love of Camelot!'

As one, his men roared back, 'For the love of Camelot!'

Only Merlin, standing behind his king, did not join in. Instead, with the intensity of a prayer and the hope of the faithful, he murmured, 'For Arthur.'

As the section commanders of the army took over, corralling the men into their positions as Morgana's army of Saxons approached, Arthur came back towards Merlin, sheathing his sword.

'Are you ready?' Arthur asked, nodding to Merlin's clothes, which were no different to usual, other than the sword strapped to his side and the staff in his hand.

'I think so,' Merlin said. 'Any word from the outlying villages?'

Arthur's face tightened. 'Nothing. We must assume they aren't coming, at this stage. Even if they come, it may be too late for them to help. They may be endangering themselves for nothing.'

'Stop,' Merlin cut in sharply. 'If they come, it is of their own volition. Whatever happens, they knew the risks. You can't take the blame for them, too.'

Arthur scowled. 'What do you mean, too?'

'I mean, you can take the blame for me getting hurt. You think I have any idea how to use this thing?' Merlin gestured at his sword, narrowly avoiding hitting himself in the head with his staff.

Arthur shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. 'We both know your clumsiness is entirely your own problem.'

'See? You can't be blamed for me, and you can't be blamed for the villagers either. Although,' Merlin added, 'if you get hurt before I return, just know that I will kill you myself.'

Arthur raised an eyebrow. 'Are you threatening your king?'

Merlin lifted a shoulder. 'What else is new?'

Almost against his will, Arthur laughed, prompting a smile from Merlin as well. Arthur couldn't focus on the things that could go wrong – he had to stay positive. If his negativity spread to the soldiers, they were done for. Merlin's job of distracting him was, however, made easier by the fact that Arthur always said he was the most distracting thing in Camelot – or possibly the most distracted. Whatever.

Merlin gestured vaguely to the army behind them. 'You have to go.'

The amusement left Arthur's face, settling into something sombre. 'I know.'

Merlin held out his arm, but instead of the shake he expected, Arthur wrapped him in a hug. It only lasted a second, then the king was gone, leaving Merlin suddenly unsteady on his feet.

Is this what his life would be like? The constant feeling that the ground had been ripped out from under him? Arthur steadied him, grounded him. Without him there, would he be adrift in the world, with nothing to tie him down?

Merlin shook himself. This wasn't the time to be morbid.

So he waited as the battle began.

He let his senses expand, trying to keep an eye on his friends as they fought, separated by necessity. Arthur, cutting swathes through the Saxon army with every sweep of his sword. Leon, at the left flank, stabbing and slicing, calling orders to his men. Gwaine and Percival, creeping to the top of the path through the mountains until they had the Saxons in sight, then charging to engage them. Mordred, leading the Saxon advance, disarming and knocking out Arthur's men, but also subtly causing chaos within the Saxon lines – tripping up a soldier here, misjudging a blow there – but doing it carefully enough that Fate appeared the culprit.

And there. Morgana herself, surrounded by Saxons in black armour – her personal guard now Mordred was elsewhere. Anytime Arthur's men came close, she blasted them with her magic, if her soldiers didn't get to them first.

Merlin heard an almighty screech, and almost before he registered what it was, he was running up the path Mordred had warned them about – up into the mountain. Before he reached where Percival and Gwaine's men were still locked in battle with the group of Saxons Morgana had sent, he veered off to the left, climbing the steep incline as fast as he could. He found himself at the top of a cliff, with a view over the battlefield. It was covered in small figures, most fighting fiercely, but many lay still.

The screech came again. He looked up to see Aithusa, Morgana's dragon, soaring above Camelot's army.

'Stop!' he roared in the Dragontongue. The white dragon shuddered in mid-air, then turned to him, following his voice more out of curiosity than anything else. When he hovered in the air, level with the warlock, Merlin spoke again. 'Fly away,' he commanded. 'I have a friend – one of your kind. He will find you soon. But you must leave. _Now_.'

The dragon hesitated. He looked down, trying to find Morgana, but she paid him no attention. Aithusa snarled, but it turned into a whimper – pain or longing, Merlin couldn't tell. Then, with a few flaps of his wings, he was off over the mountain.

For a moment, Merlin allowed himself to breathe – to stop, to recover from the climb and the threat of the dragon. But all too soon, he made himself look down at the battle – really look, taking in every detail, trying to think of something he could do to help.

Something drew his attention – a scream, somehow ringing above the clang of swords and clashes of shields. He found the source of the noise, just in time to see a bolt of black lightning hit a knight of Camelot and for him to collapse on the ground, no more than a smoking shell of chainmail and a red cloak peppered with holes.

Morgana. It had to be. No one else had that kind of power.

Something clicked in Merlin's mind. No one – except him.

He drew his staff from where he'd tied it to his back so as to have both hands free. He channelled his magic through it, using the staff as a conduit. He struck the staff on the ground, anchoring his power, then thrust it in the air. A bolt of pure white energy hit the top of the staff, bright as an exploding star, then burst outwards, striking a line of Saxons who were about to charge Arthur, who was covered in blood and dirt but was still fighting. Arthur froze, startled, then looked up for the source of the light. He raised a hand in acknowledgement as he realised what Merlin had done, then spun his sword in his hand, waiting for his next opponent.

Merlin raised his staff again, blasting another group of Saxons, then another, each strike leeching more of his energy, until he leaned on the staff, using it to support himself. He took in the prone forms of huge sections of the Saxon army – some thanks to him, others from the fighting of Arthur's men – interspersed with red cloaks of the fallen Camelot soldiers. But then he looked past them, to where a seething mass of Saxons still waited, only just starting to advance. He didn't have the energy for another strike, but Arthur's men were also tiring.

The sound of footsteps caught his attention. He turned, looking down the way he had come, to see Gwaine climbing the incline to join him. The knight was covered in dirt, a nasty cut on his arm, and his hair clung to his face, sticky with sweat. Despite that, he looked more gleeful than Merlin had ever seen him – and that included the time when a barmaid had flirted with Merlin, completely ignoring Arthur who sat right beside him, when he hadn't stopped smirking for a week.

'What is it?' Merlin asked hoarsely. His legs were shaking and he desperately needed a drink – anything to take the taste of ozone out of his mouth.

'We have company,' Gwaine said, gesturing back towards the camp.

Merlin glanced back down to the path. A smile slowly spread across his face.

The villagers had come.

Some were armed with old swords and spears, others with nothing more than pitchforks. Most joined the army on the battlefield, but those with magic were now climbing the incline themselves, arraying themselves along the top of the ridge overlooking the battle that was being fought with renewed energy down below.

Gwaine winked at Merlin, then gestured for him to speak. Percival had joined them and now stood at the other end of the ridge, so that all the sorcerers stood between him and Gwaine.

Merlin cleared his throat, once again wishing for a drink, then called to them: 'Anything you can do, do it. Rain, fire, grow vines around their feet, send wind if you can. Just aim for the Saxons, and avoid the ones in red.'

A lot of nodding greeted his instructions, even if the villagers, to a man, still looked wary. Then, as one, they raised their arms and called down hell.

Small fires broke out across the plain, licking up what vegetation remained, causing enough confusion among the Saxons that Camelot's soldiers took advantage of the distraction to regroup. Rocks broke free from the ground, the mountain, crashing through the Saxon ranks. Vines tied Morgana's men to the ground until they were cut down by Arthur's knights. Violent gusts of wind blew men over, while hailstones the size of a fist pelted others, doing almost as much damage as the rocks.

Merlin turned to Gwaine. 'I need to get to Arthur.'

Gwaine clapped him on the shoulder. 'We'll watch over them.'

Merlin dipped his head in acknowledgment, then, sliding his staff back into its holster on his back, made his way down the treacherous slope back to the camp, off to find his king.

He ran through the camp, dodging the wounded and those trying to help them, before coming across the medical tent where Gwen and Gaius were working. Merlin ducked through the flap. 'Any word?'

Gwen kept binding the leg of the soldier lying in front of her, steely determination marking every line of her body. 'Not yet.' She glanced up. 'Find him, Merlin. Find him and keep him safe.'

Merlin nodded sharply and took off again, sprinting towards the battlefield, tiredness pushed aside. Arthur was his priority.

He let his senses expand again, trying to find his king. After a few seconds of searching, his head jerked up. Arthur was near, and Mordred was with him.

But Morgana was close.

He kept running, following his senses towards where Arthur waited. He was still alive – still fighting. But tired, and now in greater danger than ever before.

_I'm coming_, he said to Mordred. _Just hold on._

He could hear the exhaustion colouring Mordred's mental voice. _Hurry_.

He ran through the passageways created by the crevices between the mountains, leaping over bodies, dodging soldiers still engaged in the battle, but always moving forwards. He tried to ignore the fires the villagers were still controlling, and more than once had to duck a rock sailing through the air.

Something in his body dropped, moments before Mordred spoke again. _She's here._

He stumbled, his foot hitting something solid, but he caught himself, picking up the speed. He rounded a corner and saw Arthur – still alive, thank the gods – and Mordred by his side.

Morgana stood before them, unarmed, but with a rage in her eyes like nothing Merlin had ever seen. She didn't notice him arrive.

But he didn't notice the sword that came flying out of the air, aimed at Arthur's heart, until it was too late. The sword sheared through chainmail and flesh like butter, drawing a shocked gasp from the man as he fell to the ground.

Merlin screamed, an unearthly sound of horror. A blast of magic shot out of him, the shockwave of power hitting Morgana in the chest. She flew backwards, hitting the wall of stone behind her, then fell to the ground, unmoving.

The warlock ran to his king. Arthur knelt on the ground, leaning over the knight who had taken the blow for him. Even now, he tried to sit up, despite the huge wound in his stomach.

Merlin knelt next to Arthur, allowing himself only a grasp of his shoulder to make sure he was alright before turning his attention to Mordred. 'Do you keep forgetting you have magic or something? You're supposed to avoid getting stabbed.' He tried to keep his tone light, so as not to worry the young knight, who attempted a smile.

'Maybe… it's because… you're late,' he gasped, each word a monumental effort. 'I… panicked.'

Merlin's answering smile came out closer to a grimace. He turned to Arthur, who was pale but calm.

'We need to get him to Gaius,' Arthur said.

Merlin shook his head. 'We won't get him through to the camp. There are too many Saxons around. They're still looking for you. We can't just go back – they'll expect you to do that.' He thought for a second. 'Head for the woods. I'll go to the camp myself, then meet you there with Gaius.'

Arthur gazed down at Mordred, who now lay still, eyes closed but breathing. Merlin quickly felt his pulse – weakening, but still steady. 'Arthur, you need to go. Now.'

Arthur stood, sheathing his sword, and with Merlin's help, swung Mordred into his arms. He would need to go slowly, but so long as he kept moving, he would reach the woods within a couple of hours. By then, Merlin hoped, he would have brought Gaius and some supplies.

Merlin should have reached the camp in minutes, but it took him over half an hour. He kept stopping, noticing the wounded Camelot soldiers who couldn't return to the camp themselves. He patched a leg here, a stomach wound there, pairing soldiers off so they could support each other on the way back. When he eventually reached the camp, he made his way straight to the medical tent.

'Gaius,' he said. His voice cracked, so he tried again, a bit louder. 'Gaius.'

The physician looked up, his face breaking into such an expression of joy that Merlin couldn't help but smile. 'You're safe.' The relief in his voice was palpable.

'I'm safe,' Merlin confirmed, accepting Gaius's embrace. Then he drew back. 'But Mordred isn't.' He explained what had happened quickly. 'I need you to come with me. Arthur has taken him to the woods – we're to meet him there.'

Gaius hesitated, looking around him at the evidence of the carnage and the soldiers who were still suffering. Before he could answer, Gwen came in, sleeves rolled up and hair tied back, blood and dirt covering her clothes. She spotted Merlin and came straight over to them.

'Are you alright?' she asked, noticing the blood on him and assuming the worst.

'I'm fine, Gwen, really. So is Arthur.' Gwen's sigh of relief was cut short as Merlin continued, 'But Mordred isn't. He took a blow meant for Arthur, and now he's dying.' He turned back to Gaius. 'Please, Gaius. You have to come with me.'

'Absolutely.' Gwen's tone brooked no argument. 'We can manage here until you get back. You'll only be gone a few hours. The villagers who came to fight brought their healers and wise women – we'll be fine.' She made a shooing motion with her hands. 'Go, Gaius.'

Gaius nodded. 'Let me get my things.'

Merlin stepped back, letting him through. The rush of adrenaline that had carried him back from Mordred's side suddenly faded and he wobbled, his strength deserting him. Gwen caught him – he always forgot how strong she was, all those years of carrying baskets of clothes and firewood hadn't left her – and guided him to a chair.

'What do you need, Merlin?' she asked. 'You have to take a minute now – you might not get one later. What do you need?'

He tried to think. 'Food. Water. Three horses – no, four, including Gaius.' He leaned back against the table behind as Gwen relayed his instructions to a passing knight, who saluted and sped away.

He swallowed, then remembered something else. 'Can I have some water?'

* * *

Merlin was stirring the pot of stew he'd made over the fire when Mordred groaned. He'd slept through the rest of the day, remaining unconscious as Gaius examined his wound.

He was on his feet in an instant, coming to kneel beside the knight. 'How are you feeling?'

Mordred tried to sit up but cried out in pain as the movement tore at his wound. He grasped for Merlin's shoulder to steady himself. Merlin held his arm, keeping him still as he looked around for Arthur, who caught the gesture and came to help. Together they helped him to lie back in a more comfortable position.

When he was settled, Mordred looked up at Merlin. 'Where are we?'

'About three hours into the forest west of Camlann. We have to hide for a while – at least until we know the remnants of Morgana's army have been caught.' Merlin tried to smile reassuringly, but his face wouldn't obey him. The guilt and fear that chewed at his heart drew his eyebrows into a frown that wouldn't go away.

Mordred shifted, hissing through his teeth. He gestured weakly to his wound. 'And this? What is it?'

Merlin's throat bobbed, the words refusing to come. Arthur answered for him. 'Gaius says Morgana stabbed you with a sword forged in a dragon's breath. Did you know Morgana had one of those?'

Mordred nodded. 'She used Aithusa to make it. She gave it to me – I dropped it when I neared Arthur, fighting with a knife instead. I didn't want to risk hurting anyone with it. It causes,' he sucked in a breath, 'excruciating pain.' He tried to laugh, but it was barely more than a puff of air. 'That worked out.'

Arthur couldn't hide the sorrow in his eyes. 'Gaius thinks a piece of the blade broke off and is lodged inside you. Somehow it's travelling towards your heart.'

Leaves crunched behind them. Arthur sprang to his feet, automatically drawing his sword, as Merlin prepared to use his magic to counter the incoming threat. But a second later they relaxed as the figure came into the light cast by the fire.

'Watch that stew, Merlin,' Gaius said. 'You don't want it boiling over.'

Merlin glanced over to where the pot was indeed bubbling intensely. He left Mordred's side, ladling the stew into four bowls. He passed them round, setting his to the side as he helped Mordred eat.

When they were finished, Mordred slipped back into a restless sleep. The others gathered closer round the fire, warming themselves as the cold night air nipped at them.

'The fragment of sword in his chest,' Gaius began. 'I don't think I can get it out.'

'We'll use magic to draw it out, then,' Merlin said.

Gaius shook his head wearily. 'The blade is now too close to his heart. Not even you could hope to thwart such magic. It would take a power as ancient as the dragons themselves.'

Merlin glanced involuntarily at Mordred, his face taut with pain even in his sleep. Even wearing his armour, curly hair long and tangled, blood seeping through the bandage Gaius had wrapped around his midsection, he looked young, innocent – little different from the boy Merlin had once saved almost a decade ago. He dragged his gaze away, back to Gaius. 'There must be something we can do.'

'Only the Sidhe possess such magic,' Gaius said reluctantly. 'In the midst of the lake of Avalon there is an ancient isle. That is the source of their power.'

Arthur looked up, some semblance of hope on his tired face. 'Then we must take him there.'

Something resonated in Merlin's memory – Balinor's message. 'I had a dream – a warning. To ride for Avalon.'

Arthur opened his mouth, but Gaius stopped him with a gesture. 'It will be dangerous. It will take days to get there, and Morgana is still after you. You must travel carefully, and Mordred's wound will slow you down.'

A shiver ran down Merlin's spine. 'Did no one see Morgana's body?'

Gaius shook his head. 'Soldiers returning from the battlefield reported nothing. She must have slipped away unseen – she is still living, and still dangerous.'

Merlin met Arthur's gaze. Though the king said nothing, Merlin could read every shred of hope and fear for their friend in his eyes. He turned back to Gaius. 'We will go.' His focus slid past the physician to Mordred, who mumbled fitfully in his sleep. 'We leave at dawn.'

Arthur coughed pointedly. 'You may have saved us, Merlin, but I'm still the king. I'll decide when we go.'

Merlin sketched a bow. 'Of course, sire. When shall we go?'

Arthur shot him a mildly irritated look, then sighed. 'Dawn. We leave at dawn.'

The corner of his mouth twitching into a smile, Merlin stood to check on the horses.

* * *

The next morning, as Merlin tied their supplies to the horses' saddles and helped Mordred up, checking his bandages, Arthur did little more to help than stay out of the way. Just before they were about to leave, Gaius approached his king.

'Is something wrong, sire?' he asked calmly, sensing that Arthur needed only minimal prompting before he divulged whatever was causing the slightly manic look in his eyes.

'He's a sorcerer.'

Gaius's eyes narrowed. 'You knew that. He told you so himself. You've seen the evidence many times since then. I do not understand why you seem so agitated, sire.'

Arthur swallowed. 'I didn't realise. He said he was a sorcerer, but I didn't know… why didn't he tell me?'

Gaius gripped his shoulder, turning him to face him properly. 'What's wrong, Arthur?'

A frantic energy seemed to take him over as he pulled himself free and started pacing, only a few steps in either direction, as if he couldn't make himself go further towards Merlin than he already was. Finally, he stopped, bracing an arm against a tree. 'How powerful is he, Gaius? As compared to other sorcerers?'

Gaius's face softened in understanding. Gently, he said, 'There are those who say he's the greatest sorcerer ever to walk the earth.'

Arthur's shoulders slumped, a sigh escaping him. He turned back to the physician. 'And he chooses to remain a servant? The most powerful warlock in existence, and he's cleaning my chambers, bringing my food, washing my clothes and polishing my armour? What could possess him to do that?'

Gaius let out a sigh of his own. 'You, sire. Do you think Merlin would stay a minute longer if he didn't want to? He cares for you too much ever to leave. Even if you ordered him away he would find a way to stay.' He stepped closer to the king, resting a fatherly hand on his shoulder. 'He has embraced his destiny to stay with you. But more than that, Arthur, he is your friend. He loves you. he would not leave you willingly.'

Arthur was silent for a long moment, taking in what Gaius had told him. 'But he deserves recognition. For what he has done for me. For Camelot.'

Gaius dipped his head in acknowledgment. 'That he does, sire.'

Arthur sucked on a tooth, pondering. Then he cracked a slight smile. 'I may have an idea for that. For when we get home.'

Gaius was about to ask what, exactly, Arthur was planning, when Merlin came to join them.

'We need to go,' he said quietly. 'Mordred's strength is failing. The faster we can reach Avalon, the better.'

Arthur nodded. 'Tell Guinevere we're alright, will you, Gaius?' The physician assured him that he would. Arthur clapped him on the shoulder and returned to his horse, mounting it smoothly.

Merlin's voice was barely more than a whisper. 'How long does he have?'

'At best, two days,' Gaius replied gravely.

Merlin could feel the blood rushing from his head, leaving a cold fear that only confirmed what he already suspected. He nodded numbly, then stepped around his guardian to join the others.

'Merlin.'

The warlock turned back to see Gaius close to tears. He covered the distance between them in a heartbeat, embracing him tightly. Then Gaius pulled away.

'I'll have your favourite meal waiting for you. Now go. Look after them. _Go_.' He gave him a gentle push towards where his horse waited.

Merlin stumbled, then regained his footing. He mounted his own horse and clicked it forward, taking the lead as Mordred followed, Arthur taking up the rear.

Gaius raised a hand in farewell, then mounted his own horse, riding in the opposite direction back towards Camelot.

* * *

Gaius bowed to his queen. 'Arthur is alive. He and Merlin ride for Avalon – they hope to save Mordred by bathing him in the waters of life.'

'Thank the gods,' Gwen breathed, though her expression remained worried. 'We must send the knights to assist them.' She shifted her focus to Gwaine, who stood at Gaius's shoulder. 'Ready as many men as you can.'

'No, my lady,' Gaius objected. 'Merlin can cope by himself, and with Arthur helping him, Mordred will be fine.'

Gwen raised an eyebrow, her tone eerily close to Arthur's. 'Merlin?'

'You must trust him,' Gaius insisted.

'He took on an army by himself. Is he not tired? Does he not need assistance?' Gwen asked, fidgeting with Arthur's signet ring, now hung on a chain around her neck.

'Morgana's forces continue to hunt Arthur. Three men travelling alone stand a much better chance of evading her, especially if she has no idea where they're heading.'

Gwen nodded reluctantly. 'I just wish I could help them somehow.' She stared out of the window next to her, to the west – towards Avalon. Then something sparked in her eyes. 'Do we not have another matter to tend to? A spy within our walls?'

Gwaine coughed. 'I actually had an idea about that…'

* * *

The sun wouldn't come out. the clouds were too thick, too dark, to let much light through. Gwaine couldn't help seeing that as an omen. He was not a religious man, unlike some of the others at court – he had more faith in men than gods and spirits – but he sent up a prayer anyway. For his friends. For his home.

He wanted Mordred to come home. To be able to tease him, to convince him to ride his horse backwards because of a made-up tradition he was too trusting to dispute. He wanted Arthur to rule with Gwen, to fight alongside him, to give them hope for a better world. He wanted to see Merlin wandering around the castle, to make stupid jokes, to steal him food and drink themselves silly just because they could.

He wanted the only family he'd known since he was sixteen to come home.

His eyes had filled with tears, which he blinked away quickly. Just not quickly enough.

Eira came up behind him, resting her head on his shoulder. It was an effort not to shrug her off, so he stayed very still, leashing his temper tightly.

'Hey,' she murmured, pressing her lips to his shoulder. 'What is it?' When he remained silent, she added, 'Tell me.'

'I can't.' He knew to keep to short sentences. Anything more and the leash on his anger would snap.

He could almost feel her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. 'Why not? Is it the king? What's happened to him?'

How had he not noticed before? She always asked so many questions, but never told him anything in return. He didn't know anything about her.

'Gwaine?' she pressed. 'Is he dead?'

'No,' he ground out.

'How do you know? Where is he? _Gwaine_?' Her voice grew shriller, the questions sharper. But suddenly she changed tack. Softly, she whispered, 'Don't you trust me?'

'I do.' The lie tasted like acid, bile creeping up his throat.

'Then tell me.'

* * *

They'd been riding all day. The sun continued its relentless descent, but they still had several miles to cover across the plains before they could camp in the forest that Merlin could just see in the distance. Unfortunately, that wasn't the only thing in sight.

'Saxons,' Merlin said grimly. He swung himself off his horse, pulling a cloak out from his saddlebags. Mordred was hunched over in pain, clearly only hanging on to his horse by sheer force of will. Merlin covered him with the cloak, tugging the hood up to cast a shadow over his features. He threw another cloak at Arthur. 'Put this on.'

Arthur complied. 'Don't you have one?'

Merlin shrugged. 'Don't need one. They might recognise Mordred, and you're a well-known face, King Arthur.' He flashed him a dark smile. 'Both of you keep your heads down. And don't speak.' This he aimed directly at Arthur, who pretended to look offended. This more than anything was proof that Arthur was fine – joking about impending attacks was how they worked. It was normal. And today, any sense of normality was welcome. 'I'll deal with them.'

The pair of Saxons was nearing, now riding straight for them, but Merlin allowed himself one more element of preparation. He focused his magic on a point a good two or three miles off, in the valley that stretched out below them. Within seconds, a thin line of smoke rose from the trees. The fire Merlin had lit wouldn't burn the forest, but he would put it out as soon as the Saxons left anyway.

He turned back to the approaching Saxons. 'Help!' he called.

He ignored Arthur's shock, waving his arms to ensure he had their attention. 'Help us!'

The Saxons reined in their mounts twenty yards away. They dismounted, and one strode towards them, head cocked suspiciously.

'Please, you have to help us – we were ambushed.'

'By who?' the Saxon asked, eyes narrowing.

'These two men,' Merlin answered vaguely. His attention was diverted by him noticing that Mordred's sword was visible from where his cloak had slipped.

The Saxon by the horses jerked his chin towards them. 'What'd they look like?'

'Uh… one was a knight. They stormed our camp.' Merlin pointed at the smoke curling up from the valley.

As the Saxons glanced towards the smoke, Merlin sent a quick gust of wind towards Mordred, perfectly aimed to shift his cloak just enough to cover his sword.

The first Saxon turned back to them. 'Was he a Camelot knight?'

Merlin shrugged. 'Maybe?'

The Saxon pushed him out of the way. 'What, like that one?' He pointed at Mordred, whose Camelot cloak had come loose from its binding in his saddlebag and now flapped lazily in the wind.

Both Saxons made to draw their swords, but Merlin was faster. He sent a solid wall of magic for each of them, knocking them off their feet hard enough that when they slammed into the ground, they didn't rise again.

Silently, he tucked Mordred's cloak back into his saddlebag and mounted his horse. As they continued on their way – having set the Saxons' horses free and put the fire out – Arthur pulled his horse beside Merlin's.

He cleared his throat. 'Is that difficult?'

Merlin looked over at him. 'Is what difficult?'

'That.' Arthur jerked his head towards the prostrate forms of the Saxons. 'I never asked.'

Merlin shrugged. 'Not really. It used to be harder, but… I've done it a lot since then.'

'Does it not… tire you out, or something?'

Merlin searched his face, trying to figure out where this was coming from. Arthur was trying to keep his face blank, but was having problems. He looked strangely awkward – not something Merlin witnessed very often. Bluffing, embarrassed, confused, yes; awkward, no.

He mentally shook himself. 'No. For something that small, I would have to do it repeatedly and in quick succession for it to drain me. But for something bigger – healing a bad injury, or hitting an army with lightning – that's harder. But even then, I'm normally fine after a few hours of sleep.'

Arthur nodded slowly, taking this in. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but then Mordred groaned. Both men turned in their saddles in time to see him listing to the side, only to be propped up by a strand of Merlin's magic. Merlin then pulled on his reins, moving closer to Mordred's horse as Arthur led the way towards the forest in the distance where they would camp for the night.

An hour later, the sun had set completely and they were setting up camp, Mordred propped up against a tree as Merlin checked his bandages and Arthur gathered firewood. When he'd built the fire, Arthur struggled with a flint until Merlin shooed him off and lit the fire himself in seconds.

When Mordred had drifted off into an uneasy sleep, full of food but drained of energy, Merlin joined Arthur sitting by the fire. They had spent many nights like this, just the two of them round the fire, on quests or on the run. This night felt different. A strange heaviness weighted down their companionable silence. Their worry for Mordred certainly contributed to it, and was reflected in Arthur's frequent glances to their friend's sleeping form, and Merlin's constant glances at the sky, as if by force of will he could make dawn come sooner so they could travel on towards Avalon. But that wasn't all of it. Something in Arthur's demeanour was stiff, awkward in a way it hadn't been since Merlin had told him about his magic.

_Oh_.

Merlin hadn't given much thought to what he'd done at Camlann, aside from how tired he'd been afterwards. But Arthur clearly didn't know what to think about it.

'I'm sorry.' The words slipped out without warning.

Arthur jolted. 'What for?'

'Earlier. Yesterday. For not telling you.' Merlin wasn't sure what he was saying, but somehow Arthur seemed to understand.

'I didn't know,' Arthur began. Then he stopped, tried again. 'I didn't understand how… powerful you were. What you could do.'

Merlin blinked. That wasn't what he'd expect. 'That's what's been bothering you? That' I'm powerful?' He let out a shaky breath. 'I thought you were back to being scared of me. That I horrified you.'

Arthur snorted. 'Scared of you? Really, Merlin? I've seen you squeal when you see a mouse in my chambers. You're not exactly frightening, skinny runt that you are.'

Merlin's eyes flicked up to meet Arthur's. 'I've killed a lot of people. Hurt a lot more.'

Arthur held his gaze steadily. 'So have I.' His expression darkened. 'Does that scare you?'

'Of course not.'

The ghost of a smile crossed Arthur's face. 'Then you have your answer.'

They sat together by the fire for a while, lost in thought, until Mordred moaned in his sleep. They were both on their feet in an instant, Merlin going to kneel by the knight's side, Arthur hovering anxiously over them. Mordred stayed asleep, but Merlin didn't want to risk waking him by checking his wound again. He needed all the strength he could get, and sleep brought some momentary respite, at least from being conscious of the pain in his side.

When he settled down, king and servant returned to the fire, now sitting side by side, facing Mordred so they could keep an eye on him.

'How far is it to Avalon?' Arthur asked.

'Maybe another six hours' ride? We should be there by mid-afternoon.'

Arthur's voice softened further. 'And when… I mean, how long –'

Merlin answered before he had to vocalise his question. 'Another day at the most, Gaius thinks. We need to move quickly. Leave at daybreak, ride as fast as we can without losing him.'

Arthur nodded, staring at his feet. They sat in silence a moment longer, then Arthur nudged him with his shoulder. 'Go to sleep. I'll take first watch.'

Merlin got up stiffly and laid out his bedroll. He made himself comfortable, then said, 'Wake me in a few hours.'

'Yes, sire.' An old joke, brought out whenever Merlin tried giving an order.

'I mean it. I know what you're like – you don't trust me to notice if someone's coming, so you'll pretend you're not tired and take both shifts and won't sleep at all, but then you'll either fall asleep on your horse tomorrow, or you'll be insufferably grouchy.'

'What are you on about?' Arthur said. 'You may be a lousy servant, but I trust you.'

Somehow, hearing those three words made going to sleep an awful lot easier.

* * *

From his position hidden in the shadows, Gwaine could see a silhouette stepping through the open doorway. A muffled caw reached him from the bird trapped between their hands. Swinging the window open, the figure leaned out into the night, releasing the bird.

A lock of hair fell over their shoulder, silver in the moonlight.

Steeling himself, Gwaine stepped into the patch of light behind her. 'Eira.' It wasn't a question.

The figure whirled, her hand going to her throat. 'I – I was just –' She gestured wildly at the window.

'Sending word to Morgana?' The ice in his veins leaked into his voice, already brittle at the confirmation of her betrayal. It wasn't that he hadn't believed Merlin, but seeing her himself… he had hoped she wasn't who Merlin had said she was. That there was another explanation.

'No!' she protested. 'Gwaine – m'lady,' she pleaded, her voice shaking.

Gwaine didn't have to turn to know Queen Guinevere stood in the doorway behind him. He simply stepped aside, allowing her in.

'I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't betray you or the king,' Eira said, hands clasped together in supplication.

'And you didn't,' Gwen said calmly. 'You can go to your death safe in that knowledge. Your note will send your mistress riding for Brineved and all the while the king will be travelling in the opposite direction. Guards,' she ordered.

Two guards stepped forward, sandwiching Eira between them as they each took an arm.

'Gwaine!' she cried, struggling in vain to free herself. 'Gwaine! Please!'

Gwaine allowed himself three seconds to watch after the girl who had stolen his heart in Morgana's name. Then he forced himself to turn back to his queen. 'See? My ideas are great.' The teasing nature of his words were belied by the heaviness with which he spoke them.

Gwen smiled, her eyes soft. 'That they are, Gwaine. Now get some sleep.' She glanced in the direction Eira had been taken. 'I think we may need it for what is still to come.'

* * *

After Arthur had drifted off to sleep at the end of his watch, Merlin had wandered around, trying to keep himself both warm and awake. Sitting by the fire would accomplish on, but it wouldn't stave off sleep, which would defeat the purpose of 'keeping watch.' He gathered some more firewood to keep the others warm, then tried to think about how the others were getting along in Camelot. Anything to distract himself from the pallor of Mordred's skin. How weak he was as he moved in his sleep.

As the sky began to brighten, he set about making breakfast. When Mordred groaned and tried to sit up, Merlin sat next to him with a bowl and spoon, and having propped him up against a tree, helped him eat his porridge.

Once he'd eaten, Merlin checked his wound and changed his bandages. After a minute or two, Mordred asked him to tell him something.

'Tell you what?'

'Anything. Something ridiculous. Distract me.' He forced the last words out from between his teeth, clenched against the wave of pain running through his body.

Merlin racked his brain, looking around for anything that would jog his memory. Arthur had just woken up and was eating his own breakfast, hair sticking up in every direction. Something about the sight reminded him of an old memory – a story Mordred probably hadn't heard.

'The first time I met Arthur, he was throwing knives at some servant – who I think left from the trauma – and I called him an ass. Then he threw me in the dungeon. Gaius had to get me out.'

A faint smile replaced the grimace on Mordred's face.

'Then the same day, he saw me in the market, and I called him a prat.'

'I believe you asked, "How long have you been training to be a prat?"' Arthur interjected.

'I'm sure I was more polite than that,' Merlin teased.

Arthur rolled his eyes. 'Perhaps it was, "How long have you been training to be a prat, my lord?"'

Mordred snorted as Merlin grinned. 'Yes, that was it.'

'Then I tried to take your head off with a mace,' Arthur said. He sounded almost fond.

Merlin quirked his eyebrows at Mordred. _Watch this._

'And I stopped you using magic.'

Arthur's mouth fell open, spoon frozen in mid-air. 'You cheated!'

Mordred's short laugh was all the payment Merlin needed for giving up that particular piece of information. 'Um, yeah. You were going to kill me.'

'I should have,' Arthur grumbled, going back to his food. 'Especially if I'd known how much of a pain in my ass you were going to be for the next decade.'

Merlin looked up from where he'd finished tying off Mordred's bandage, his voice unintentionally soft. 'I'm glad you didn't.'

Arthur scoffed, but then added, 'So am I.'

Merlin bent back over Mordred to make him more comfortable.

'Thanks,' Mordred said, eyes fluttering shut. 'I needed that.'

'Needed what?'

'A reminder that things get better.'

Merlin wrapped up the old bandages into one bundle, using the distraction to look away. He pointed a finger at the ground and a small hole began to dig itself. He threw the bandage in the hole and swept the dirt back over it with his foot.

_One more day, Mordred. Just hold on one more day._

* * *

A gallows had been set up in the courtyard in front of the castle entrance. Guinevere watched steadily from the balcony up above, the ruby curtains behind her swaying in the breeze.

Gwaine stood at a window, hidden from sight but with a view over the whole courtyard. The whispering of the gathered crowd drew louder, hisses and curses reaching him as Eira was brought out, her blonde hair in disarray, her hands tied behind her. A guard led her up the stairs. She stumbled as she climbed them, and without her hands to help her balance, she fell, her knees slamming into the top step. The crowd cackled, the ugly side of human nature in full view.

Gwaine wasn't sure he could keep watching, but he couldn't tear himself away either.

Someone came up behind him – he didn't see who, but he could feel their presence at his back. Then a huge hand squeezed his shoulder in silent support. Percival.

A proclaimer read the charges and the sentence, then looked to Gwen for confirmation. She nodded, and the executioner placed the noose around Eira's neck. The sentenced girl looked up at the window she somehow knew Gwaine was behind. Her eyes pleaded with him, huge in her pale face, but he didn't acknowledge her. He just stared unseeingly as Gwen raised her hand, and the trapdoor fell open.

Percival's hand on his shoulder was a steadying weight, grounding him when he'd rather be elsewhere – anywhere but here. He wanted to be drunk, to forget what had happened, what he'd seen, what he'd hoped. All of that taken away by Morgana. Yet another thing she'd stolen from him.

'You know what you said you'd do if you ever found Morgana?' Gwaine asked, voice hoarse.

He saw Percival's reflection turn towards him, eyebrows raised.

'Well, we've got a good idea where she'll be heading.'

The gleam in Percival's eyes was answer enough.

* * *

Morgana and her men appeared from a dark tunnel, squinting in the newfound daylight. Percival nodded down towards them, then signalled that he would go right, while Gwaine should take the left. Gwaine nodded, then leaned back against a tree, giving his friend a ten-second head start.

'Position lookouts for the king's approach,' he heard Morgana order. Judging that this would be the best chance they got, Gwaine slipped out from behind the tree and made his way down to the Saxons on velvet feet, using the trees for cover.

He heard a branch snap close by and ducked behind a tree. He waited, and was rewarded by a single Saxon coming into view. He let the soldier pass him, then crept up from behind and with one slash, the Saxon was down, without even time to cry out.

Gwaine saw the flicker of light glinting off a blade between the trees and headed for where Percival was fighting against two more Saxons. He engaged one, and in seconds, they were both dead.

The knights shared a look, and each headed in their own direction. Gwaine found another hiding place – behind a large bush this time – and waited until he was sure Percival was in position.

Morgana approached, her steps strangely silent – not from training, like Gwaine and Percival, but from something darker. A spell that hung in the air, quieting the birds and stilling the animals.

Gwaine stepped out smoothly from behind the bush, taking care not to rustle the leaves. Holding his sword high, he charged her.

Some supernatural sense had her turning to face the oncoming threat. She threw a hand up – exactly as Percival dropped out of the tree directly behind her and stabbed her in the side.

She screamed and threw a hand out to the side, blasting first Percival, then Gwaine, into the air before they hit the ground hard. Gwaine's head hit a rock, but just before he slipped into unconsciousness, he heard Morgana speak, ice-cold but smooth as silk.

'Did you really think you could outwit me?'

* * *

When Gwaine woke, he tried to rub his eyes, but his arm couldn't reach his face. He felt something tight tugging at his wrist – something that rubbed against his skin, with a bit of give, but not enough to wriggle free. Ropes, then, tying him up.

He opened his eyes. Morgana stood before him, an icy smirk on her pale face.

'Tell me where the king is,' she said. Something in her eyes was manic – her cold grip on her emotions was starting to slip. But not in a way Gwaine thought he could use; something much more dangerous looked set to take the place of the control she needed, lurking just below the surface.

'I'd rather die.' A touch dramatic perhaps, but the sentiment was correct.

'Then you shall have your wish,' Morgana purred, 'once you've told me.' She stepped closer, producing a small wooden box from her pocket. 'Not even you, sir knight, can resist the charms of the nathair.' She knelt in front of him and opened the box. A black snake reared its head, hissing.

Gwaine struggled, trying to slip out of his ties, but his efforts were in vain. Morgana held out the snake.

Gwaine screamed.

* * *

He didn't know how long the pain lasted. He had drifted in and out of consciousness so many times now he didn't know what day it was, or even where he was. Some moments – the scariest ones – he couldn't remember who he was.

But he remembered what he'd done.

'Gwaine. Gwaine!' A deep voice kept calling that name. He wasn't sure who that person was, or who they were looking for, but they sounded familiar.

'Gwaine.' The voice broke in relief. So he'd found the person he was looking for.

His arms were still tied to the trees, but now he knelt on the ground, sagging forward. He couldn't make himself straighten, even though his shoulders ached from his weight pulling on them.

Someone's hand found his face. He flinched, but when no blow came, no new wave of agony, he cracked an eye open. A man knelt in front of him, his hands gentler than the breeze.

He knew that face. Had to tell him something.

'She's riding… for Avalon.' He grunted as something in his arm gave.

'Gwaine…' the man whispered, horror colouring his tone. Then he was out of sight, though he could still hear him, still feel him close by. Seconds later, his arms dropped to his sides and he moaned as blood rushed through them.

He sagged forward, but was caught before he face-planted in the dirt.

'I failed,' he said. The thing the woman had made sure he remembered. The thing she told him between waves of pain.

'No, you haven't. This was a long shot anyway.' The man's voice was gentle, quiet. Like he was aware how much his head hurt, and he didn't want to make it worse.

His eyes closed slowly, the energy it took to open them fading.

'Gwaine. Gwaine!' The man sobbed, his forehead touching his.

Gwaine. That was it. That was _him_.

He felt something change – he was moving, but he wasn't walking. Strong arms cradled him, then he felt something cool and smooth underneath him – leather? Someone swung up behind him, and they were moving again, a bouncing gait that hurt his head but kept him awake. A muffled _clip-clop_ sounded in time to the pounding in his head.

He wasn't sure what was happening, but if the big man was with him, maybe he'd be alright.

The man was speaking again. 'Hold on, Gwaine. Just a few miles. Just hold on.'

_I'm trying_, Gwaine wanted to say. _Percival, I'm trying._

Percival. His friend. He remembered.

He hoped he would be able to thank him someday.

* * *

'Mordred!' Merlin shouted, catching sight of him just as he was about to fall off his horse. He leapt off his own mount, throwing out his magic to catch him.

Arthur was faster, darting over to steady Mordred as he slumped forward, breathing heavily. He pushed the knight upright, smoothing the hair out of his eyes so he could see his face properly.

'I can't keep going,' Mordred said, the words barely more than a puff of air. The skin around his eyes was taut, his teeth gritted, his face bathed in sweat. Merlin's heart clenched at the sight of him, but he forced himself to speak reassuringly.

'There's not far to go. We need to reach the lake before tonight.'

'No, Merlin.' His head swayed from side to side in a vague imitation of shaking it. 'No.'

Merlin glanced at Arthur, silently pleading him to help.

'All right,' the king said, helping Mordred out of the saddle. 'We rest for an hour.'

Together, they managed to make Mordred comfortable sitting against a tree. He was cold, despite being covered in sweat, so they wrapped him in their cloaks and folded another to tuck behind his head. Thus covered, he dozed off in minutes.

Merlin and Arthur shared a worried look, but neither could make themselves voice their thoughts. They were still several hours from Avalon, and this may be wasting time Mordred didn't have – but at the same time, he would die from exhaustion before they arrived if they didn't let him rest. It was an impossible situation.

They sat quietly for what felt like hours, but couldn't have been more than half an hour, before Arthur broke the silence.

'Whatever happens –'

'No.' Merlin's interruption was curt. 'He's going to be fine. We'll let him sleep a bit more, and then we'll keep going.'

Arthur raised an eyebrow. 'I'm the king, Merlin. You can't tell me what to do.' His teasing was half-hearted. In this situation, Arthur knew he was way out of his depth.

'I always have.' Merlin smiled humourlessly. 'I'm not going to change now.'

Arthur shuffled closer. 'I don't want you to change.' He chewed his lip, then said, 'Camelot ought to change around you. Not the other way around.'

Merlin looked up at him in surprise. Arthur's demeanour was unsure, not meeting Merlin's eyes and fiddling with his fingers, but his voice held the confidence and authority of the king he was still becoming. Merlin didn't doubt that he would follow through with his declaration – the only thing to figure out was how.

'Why now?' he asked.

Arthur didn't answer. Instead, his gaze drifted to Mordred, whose face was tight with pain, even in sleep. With that one look, Merlin understood that this gift wasn't just for him; it was for Mordred.

And Merlin was glad. Mordred had saved their live time and time again. If it hadn't been for him, he and Arthur might not even be here now. Mordred deserved every bit of recognition he got.

The air seemed heavier somehow, understanding and sorrow weighing it down. Merlin couldn't bear it, so he joked, 'Does that mean you're going to give me a day off?'

Arthur didn't look away from where Mordred slept uneasily. 'Two.'

'That's generous.'

A tiny smile tugged at Arthur's lips. 'It is, isn't it?'

Merlin nudged him with his shoulder. Arthur nudged him back. They didn't say anything else, just sat there, shoulder to shoulder, until Merlin glanced up at the sky and noticed how high the sun was.

He was on his feet in an instant. 'We need to go.'

He leaned over Mordred and shook his shoulder. 'Mordred!'

The knight opened his eyes unwillingly. Merlin paid no attention to his glare and started hauling him to his feet, assisted by Arthur. 'We've wasted enough time.'

They got him back on his saddle, then mounted their own horses and set off, trying to go quickly, but not so fast that Mordred would fall off his horse. Arthur led the way and Merlin took up the rear, as he had the best chance of catching Mordred should he fall. It hurt Merlin to watch him, swaying madly with every step the horse took. He wanted to do something to steady him, to take away the pain, but there wasn't anything he could think of.

A couple of hours later, Arthur gave a shout. 'I can see it!'

Merlin stretched up on his horse, and sure enough, the glittering blue of the lake of Avalon was in sight through the trees. They were a good few miles off still, and well above it, but they were close enough for Merlin to see the tower that crowned the island in the lake.

He nudged his horse forward, next to Mordred's. 'Avalon. We'll get there.'

Mordred tried to nod, but the movement unbalanced him and he started to slip. Merlin flung out a cushion of magic to catch him and swung down from his own mount to help him down properly. Having realised what was happening, Arthur dismounted as well and ran to help. Back on solid ground, they half-carried, half-dragged Mordred to an outcropping of rock, helping him to sit. He was pale as a sheet, lips white and eyes unfocused.

Merlin fumbled for his water gourd. As he helped the wounded knight to drink, the horses whinnied suddenly, causing him to jolt and spill some water.

'Woah, woah!' Arthur cried, trying to calm the spooked horses. It didn't work – they reared, then ran off back the way they had come. Arthur turned back to the other two, cursing – loudly enough that they didn't hear the crunch of leaves until it was too late.

'Hello, Emrys,' Morgana said. She jerked her chin, eyes flashing orange, and he went flying, landing on the ground among fallen leaves with a thump that knocked the air out of him.

Mordred tried to get up, but the movement pulled at his wound and he hissed, leaning back as he panted through the pain. Morgana barely spared him a glance, instead angling her head towards Arthur, who tried to draw his sword. She flicked a finger, and the sword flew from his grip, landing several feet behind him. Another gesture and vines from the trees wrapped around Arthur's arms and torso, pulling him to his knees and keeping him still.

'What a joy it is to see you, Arthur,' she said, stepping closer. 'Look at you. Not so tall and might now.' She stood over him, a cold smirk playing at her lips as she surveyed the King of Camelot, bound and kneeling at her feet. She leaned down and tipped Arthur's head up to face her. 'You may have won the battle, but you've lost the war.'

The rage in Arthur's eyes could have set fire to the forest, but he said nothing, instead taking in his sister. Her face was grimy, her hands covered in dust. Her hair was a mess of tangles, her dress torn in multiple places, including a rip in the side that was crusted in blood. But most worrying was the fanatic look in her eyes: the look of power gone mad.

'You're going to die by my hand. As will Mordred – and as will Emrys.' Something cruelly malicious crept into her voice. 'You trust him more than you trust yourself – and yet he is a sorcerer. The thing you were taught to hate above all else.' Her lips pulled back, baring her teeth in a cruel smile. 'The most powerful sorcerer in the world, and yet he still is not enough to save you.'

Arthur barely blinked, staring past her as if she wasn't there – towards where Merlin had been thrown. Morgana's eyes narrowed. 'Emrys will be gone in moments. But don't worry, my dear brother, I won't let you die alone. You and the traitor –' she cast a hate-filled glance at Mordred '– can die together. I will stay and watch over you until the wolves gorge on your carcasses and bathe in your blood.'

Something flickered in Arthur's eyes.

'The time for all this bloodshed is over.' Morgana whirled around to see Merlin, a sword in his hand, bleeding from a cut on his forehead but otherwise fine. 'I blame myself for what you've become – but this has to end.'

Morgana raised her head in defiance. 'I am a High Priestess. No mortal blade can kill me.'

Merlin struck, quick as a snake. His blade sliced through her flesh, the point now protruding from her back. He stepped in close and held her up as she gasped.

Arthur watched on, understanding that this was not his war to end.

'This is no mortal blade,' Merlin breathed. Her face was inches from his. 'Like yours, it was forged in a dragon's breath.'

He twisted the blade and she gasped again, clenching her eyes shut against the pain. He drew Excalibur out of her and she fell, breathing shakily.

'Goodbye, Morgana,' he said. Her eyes met his – the boy she'd trusted, the man who was her doom – and she shuddered and died.

The vines tying Arthur down loosened as she released her final breath, the spell shattering. Merlin stepped around Morgana's corpse, helping extricate him from the leaves, before offering him a hand. Arthur took it, and when he stood, he crushed him in a hug.

'You brought peace at last,' Arthur breathed as he stepped back. An emotion almost akin to awe shone in his eyes, though he would deny it if Merlin asked.

Something inside Merlin cracked as he realised what he'd done, but he shoved the thought aside. They still had a mission to complete.

His attention jumped to Mordred. 'Come on.' With the horses gone, they would have to walk. The sun was three-quarters of the way to the horizon. They could still make it to Avalon in time.

They each took one of Mordred's arms, half-carrying him as they went. A look of intense sadness crossed the knight's face as they passed Morgana, but he didn't dwell on it; it was a death they had all hoped would come, much as they grieved the woman she used to be.

It was easier with two of them, but Mordred was only just holding on to consciousness, and his bandages were soaked with blood. They couldn't risk stopping for Merlin to change them, but every step they took made him flinch.

They were so close.

Then Mordred tripped.

Even with both Arthur and Merlin holding him up, he fell to the ground, taking Merlin with him. They had been travelling for days and before that had fought in a huge battle that had severely sapped their strength. Their energy was gone.

'We have to make it to the lake,' Merlin said desperately.

'No, Merlin,' Mordred said. 'Not without the horses.'

Arthur tried to help him up, but the knight could barely lift his head anymore, let alone stand, even with the other two supporting him.

'Please, Mordred,' Arthur said, tugging his arm futilely.

'We can't. It's too late.' Mordred's tired voice was calm. 'It's too late.'

Merlin tried to prop him up, the knight's head leaning against his chest. Arthur knelt next to them, eyes shining as he understood what Mordred meant, one soldier to another.

'All your magic, Merlin, and you can't save my life.'

Merlin blinked away his own tears. 'I can. I _will_. You've saved my life – the least I can do is save yours.'

'You already have,' Mordred replied, patting the arm Merlin had around his chest to keep him semi-upright. 'So many times. You saved me, and Kara, and brought magic back to Camelot. How could you possibly still be in my debt?' Each word he spoke took a greater effort, but he struggled on nonetheless. He held a hand out to Arthur, who took it instantly. 'My king. Have I served you well?'

'Of course.' Arthur's voice was impossibly gentle. 'You are an honourable man, Mordred, and a brave one – a true knight of Camelot.'

'Good,' Mordred breathed. 'That's good.' Then his focus shifted to Merlin. 'I helped to build the kingdom you and Arthur will lead. A land built on freedom and hope. Where magic is accepted. That's all I ever wanted. You gave me that.'

Merlin couldn't speak, so he just nodded numbly.

'You will keep making it better. Making it safe for everyone. A home for the homeless. For people like me.' He shifted to look into Merlin's eyes. 'Like us. Promise me, Merlin.'

'I promise.' It was hardly more than a whisper, but it was enough.

'Thank you, Merlin. Thank you.' The ghost of a smile crossed Mordred's face as he closed his eyes.

His arm fell from where Arthur held it.

'Mordred. Hey. No. Mordred. Mordred!' Merlin shook him, his heart ignoring his mind, which told him Mordred was gone. 'Stay with me. Mordred!' He held the boy closer, the boy he couldn't save – no matter which version of the story they lived.

'No.' A breath of air. 'No.' A scream. He couldn't tell the difference. His friend was gone.

Mordred was gone.

A hand on his shoulder. A familiar voice cutting through the grief. 'Merlin.'

He looked up. Arthur stood by him, his face stony as he clamped down on his own emotions. 'We have to bury him.'

Merlin nodded, staring unfocused through the trees to the glittering blue of the lake they hadn't reached in time. Avalon, the land of eternal youth.

'Wait.' He stood up carefully, letting Mordred lie on the soft grass. 'I have an idea.' He tilted his head back to look up at the sky. 'Kilgarrah!' he bellowed in the Dragontongue. He saw Arthur jump at the sudden shout. 'Kilgarrah, I need you!'

He stared at the sky until he heard the boom of flapping wings. He gestured at Arthur, who had started to draw his sword. 'It's a friend.'

'A friend?' Arthur said sarcastically. 'What is it, a dragon?'

At that moment, Kilgarrah soared into view. Arthur's litany of curses only died out when he landed and bowed to Merlin, his shrewd gaze boring into the warlock.

'I would not have summoned you if there was any other choice.'

'Merlin. There is nothing you can do.' The dragon flapped his wings, then tucked them tightly into his body.

Merlin glanced helplessly at Mordred's body. 'We saved Arthur. I just hoped… I thought I would pay the price, not him.'

'Young warlock, all that you have dreamt of building has come to pass. The druid boy longed for the same future as you. In pursuit of that future, he gave his life gladly.'

'He's my friend,' Merlin whispered. 'I can't lose him like that.'

'Though no man, no matter how great, can know his destiny, some lives have been foretold.' The dragon's eyes seemed to be looking through him. 'Arthur was destined to bring about the age of Albion, but to fall at Mordred's hand. You knew this. Yet you defied Fate herself. Together, you and the druid boy saved Arthur's life and defeated the witch Morgana. But no victory is without its price. Fate chose Mordred to pay it. Do not blame yourself, Merlin. Powerful as you are, you cannot dictate Fate. Altering your own path is miracle enough. Do not seek another.'

The dragon's focus shifted to Arthur. 'As for you, Arthur Pendragon, the path of the Once and Future King is not an easy one. You know this. But Albion will prosper, if you are there to guide her.'

Arthur looked around wildly, trying to formulate some response, but gave up. Instead, he bowed respectfully. Kilgarrah in turn inclined his head to the king, then turned back to Merlin, whose thoughts were churning.

'The once and future king,' he mouthed. Finna, Alator's friend, had called Arthur the same thing. _Only you can ensure the triumph of the once and future king. _He had saved Arthur from Morgana, but he had a feeling that it meant something else.

Once and future… _Future_…

He looked out across the lake, to the island-hill gleaming green against the sparkling blue of the water. His gaze drifted to Mordred, to Arthur, then back to Kilgarrah. An old story surfaced, the memory prompted by Balinor's words, one his mother told him when he was still young enough to sit on her knee. Tales of olden days, when sorcerers roamed the land freely, granting boons and performing miracles. Stories of the Hollow Hill and the Fae who blessed it.

'Will you take us to the island?'

Kilgarrah huffed. 'I'm not a horse, Merlin.'

Merlin didn't bother addressing that comment. 'To ensure the future of Albion?'

The dragon sighed. 'Very well.'

Moments later they were climbing onto Kilgarrah's back. Merlin clung to Mordred, while Arthur held on to Kilgarrah's scales just as tightly. They flew only a few minutes, and landed in the shadow of the hill which now towered above them.

Arthur slid off first, glad to be back on solid ground. Merlin passed Mordred's body down to him, then followed, surprisingly gracefully given his ability to fall off horses. A perk of being a Dragonlord, perhaps.

Merlin held out a hand. His eyes flashed gold, and a crack appeared in the hill, wide enough for two men to walk through.

He bent to pick up Mordred's body, Arthur rushing to help. Together they navigated the narrow entrance.

Merlin held his hand out again, this time forming a ball of light which he threw in the air, giving them enough light to see the huge cavern in which they now stood. Veins of diamonds and other precious gems glinted in the flickering light. The ground under their feet was soft, carpeted with moss and wildflowers despite the absence of sunlight.

'What is this place?' Arthur wondered.

'The Hollow Hill,' Merlin replied. 'My mother told me stories about it. Faeries used to live here, and their magic keeps it alive. Here,' he said. They laid Mordred down on the moss and covered him with his red cloak, concealing his wound, and laid his sword next to him.

They left the cavern, Merlin calling down the ball of light as they slipped through the crack in the hill. Kilgarrah waited for them, his eyes knowing.

'I don't understand,' Arthur said. 'What did we just do?'

'This is a sacred place,' Kilgarrah explained. 'Fae magic will keep Mordred safe – until Albion needs him once more.' He gazed at Merlin. 'You understand your task, do you not?'

'I do,' the warlock said solemnly.

'I don't,' Arthur interjected.

Merlin nudged him. 'I'll explain later.'

'You'd better.'

They climbed back onto Kilgarrah, who sighed, then took off, flying high above the forest they had spent days travelling through. Within the hour, they reached Camelot. Kilgarrah chuckled to himself, then aimed for the citadel, flying straight over the guards' heads and landing in the courtyard of the castle.

'A Pendragon returning on a dragon – a good omen for a new age of Pendragon rule,' he said as the men dismounted. 'Symbolic, don't you think?'

'Thank you, Kilgarrah,' Merlin said. Then he remembered something. 'Aithusa. I told him you would find him. Will you?'

The dragon bowed, then looked to Arthur, who stood a few paces behind Merlin, watching their exchange warily.

'Good luck, Arthur Pendragon. Though with this one by your side, luck becomes less important by the day.' Arthur held the dragon's intense gaze without flinching, then bowed again. Kilgarrah bowed back.

'It has been a privilege to have known you, young warlock. The story we have been a part of will live long in the minds of men.' With that, Kilgarrah spread his wings and flew off, the wind from his wingbeats rustling their hair.

Merlin watched him go, a fresh wave of sadness hitting him. He stared out at the sky until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

'What now?' Arthur murmured.

Merlin let out a long breath. 'Now, we live.'

* * *

**Hey guys**

**It's been almost three months, and I'm really sorry, but I had to finish my dissertation, along with two other essays and then finals, so this took a lot longer than expected. I hope this mammoth chapter somewhat makes up for it - over 13,000 words!**

**The next chapter will not be anywhere near as late as this one. Probably.**

**Love,**

**NewtPevensie xoxoxox**


	10. A New Dawn

Arthur threw open the doors to the throne room, striding in with his head held high, despite his bloodstained clothes and dirty face. Merlin followed at his shoulder, where he was always meant to be. The gathered crowd – knights, courtiers and villagers – instantly started buzzing, whispers growing into shouts. Gwen rose from her throne, and the noise died away. As one, they bowed to Arthur as he made his way to his throne. He squeezed Gwen's hand in greeting, knowing that this wasn't the place for a tearful reunion. By the same token Merlin merely clasped Gaius's arm, reading the relief in the physician's eyes before returning to Arthur's side.

The court straightened as he sat down, Merlin taking his place at Arthur's left hand, while Gwen sat to his right.

'The war is won. Morgana is dead, and Camelot survives.' Arthur spoke clearly, with no room for doubt or interruption. 'We have lost many of our number, but they will be remembered with honour. Sir Mordred gave his life for mine, and in so doing ensured Morgana's defeat. But the victory is not mine to claim.' He paused, beckoning to Merlin. The warlock hesitated, then stepped forward.

'It is Merlin's.'

Merlin's eyes widened, but Arthur wasn't finished.

'I was trapped, tied down and at Morgana's mercy. But Merlin struck the blow that saved Camelot and ended Morgana's reign of terror forever. But even before that, he saved us all by calling down lightning from the heavens to decimate Morgana's army.' His gaze roamed over the crowd, trying to impress upon them the gravity of the situation. 'Magic has saved Camelot not once, not twice, but three times in the last few days. The powers of the sorcerers of the outlying villages scattered the Saxon army, and thus allowed our own soldiers to regroup. If any doubt remained that magic can be a force for good, it has been dispelled by their courageous actions.'

The whispers of the court had been growing throughout this speech. At his final words, voices increased in volume until there were shouts, both in support and in disagreement, ringing through the hall. Arthur waited for silence, but instead the ruckus seemed to grow louder.

Then Gwaine stepped forward to stand in front of Arthur.

'HEY!' he bellowed. The noise died down almost immediately, mostly in surprise that anyone would dare raise their voice so in the throne room of Camelot – somewhat ironically, Merlin thought.

'Magic has saved us all repeatedly, long before it was permitted in Camelot. And over and over again, when we thought all was lost, this man stepped in to save his kingdom, often risking his own life in the process. How many of you can say you have done the same? What else must he do to prove that magic ought to be respected, for sorcerers to be worth as much to Camelot as its knights?'

A scowling courtier dressed in fine blue robes scoffed loudly. Those around him moved aside so that Gwaine could see who had jeered. When the courtier realised that he was now in full view of the king, the queen, their most loyal knights, as well as Merlin, he went red, but stood his ground.

'How do we know you do not have magic yourself, Sir Knight? Or that you are not in this sorcerer's thrall?'

Gwaine merely cocked his head to the side, staring down his opponent with a look that had sent many a soldier running. Then he looked round at the rest of the crowd and gestured to his arm, wrapped in a sling, and to his face, which was a mass of bruises. 'Not even a day ago, I was tortured by Morgana to reveal King Arthur's location. She used the darkest of magic to inflict pain like I have never felt. My arm is both broken and dislocated, my ribs are cracked, and it hurts to breathe. Yet despite all this suffering at the hands of magic, I still believe it is a force for good. I do not believe that any among you would disagree that Morgana was evil. But she turned dark in spite of her magic, not because of it.'

Then Leon joined Gwaine, standing at his side. 'Magic is like a knife. It is no more good or evil than the one who wields it. Morgana was a good woman, until the evil of men corrupted her. Magic does not corrupt – a desire for power can do that, but magic itself cannot. Morgana wanted to rule Camelot and used her magic to that end. Merlin does not.'

'Magic cannot cure all ills,' Percival said. 'It cannot save everyone. But it can help us save more people. Sir Elyan died at magic's hand – but he only survived to save the queen's life because of Merlin's own magic.'

'I did not know of Merlin's magic until recently,' Gwen said, rising from her throne. She spoke quietly, and the room stilled further to hear her words. 'But I know that he is one of the bravest men I have ever met. He risked his life to save my father and was almost executed as a result. He saved Sir Mordred when he was a boy, again risking execution for his actions. He has saved my life, and Arthur's, and all of yours. Again and again. But he has asked for nothing in return. So now, as we finally honour him for his brave deeds, you wish to ignore his sacrifices because of the means he used to save us all?' Her voice sharpened. 'You dishonour yourselves, as well as the kingdom of Camelot, if you believe that a man's nature outweighs his action, just because that nature is distasteful to you. Camelot cannot prosper if this narrow-minded vision of the world is sustained.'

Merlin couldn't say anything – could barely bring himself to move. Not because he feared the reaction of the court – he couldn't care less about that; in fact, he had expected an outcry of this sort for weeks – but rather by his friends' words. That they cared enough for him to publicly denounce a system that would have seen him executed before the court… Well, to say he was touched would be the understatement of the century.

Arthur rose from his throne, and the angry buzzing of the court hushed. He stared down the man who had challenged Gwaine in the first place until the man lowered his gaze, red creeping up his neck to his cheeks.

'Merlin has shown himself to be the most loyal of servants. He is the unsung hero of Camelot, and I trust him with my life. For this reason, he will be given a seat on the Council of Camelot, and the privileges that come with that rank. And now,' he said, 'the court is dismissed.' He waved a hand, and the courtiers obediently shuffled out, even if the occasional grumble still reached him.

He raised an eyebrow at Arthur, who simply lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. _Let it go – there's nothing we can do. Time will bring them around._

The only people left in the throne room were Camelot's Inner Court and a number of villagers who shifted uneasily, unsure whether they should leave, though they hadn't been dismissed. Instead, they huddled in a clump towards the back of the room.

Arthur strode over to the group, Merlin beside him. After a moment, Gwen and the knights followed them. When they reached the villagers, Arthur bowed. Gwen, Merlin and the knights immediately copied him.

The villagers exchanged confused glances, then bowed back.

'I wanted to thank you myself for your actions at Camlann. Without you, I do not believe we would have been victorious,' Arthur said. 'Is there anything you would desire as proof of our gratitude?'

A young woman at the front of the group said, 'The recognition of magic is recompense enough.' She smiled at Merlin, a simple, joyous expression that somehow encompassed every emotion wheeling through him at the thought of a visible, accepted place for magic at the heart of Camelot. No more hiding, no more secrets – just the ability of everyone to be themselves.

'Although some gold to get us through the winter wouldn't go amiss,' an older, lanky man with greying red hair piped up.

Arthur grinned. 'I think we could manage that.'

* * *

That evening, Arthur and Merlin sat in Arthur's chambers, staring into the goblets of wine Arthur had poured for them. When Merlin had protested, saying he was still technically Arthur's servant, Arthur had merely waved him off. 'We're a bit past that, don't you think?'

So they sat there in companionable silence, drinking from their cups in the first moment of peace they had had in what felt like months. It was late now, given that they hadn't arrived in Camelot until dusk, and many things had to be done before they could retire. Arrangements had to be made for the villagers to return home safely, the casualty list for the battle had to be reviewed, and initial preparations for the funerals of the fallen soldiers had to be set in motion. Arthur had barely had the time to wash the blood off his hands and face before being thrown into meeting after meeting.

Meanwhile, Merlin had been running around the castle, passing on messages, as well as making his own preparations. After today, he would be a councillor, meaning that many of his old duties would be passed to someone else – at least in theory. In reality, Merlin knew that Arthur would be begging him to return to his old duties in no time, but that meant a whole other set of preparations. Merlin was betting that he'd get a week or so off, with only minor Council duties to attend to, but after that, he would return to being Arthur's servant in private, giving him much more blunt advice than was acceptable in a public Council meeting – as he always had, even if they hadn't acknowledged it before.

He might insist on a few more regular days off, though.

'What are you thinking about?'

Merlin glanced up. Arthur's face was drawn and pale, grief and fatigue lining his features. But his eyes were intense, curious.

'The future, I suppose,' Merlin said. 'How it's going to work – with us. Within the court. The courtier's reaction today – that's only the start of the resistance we're going to see. Uther's anti-magic mindset won't disappear overnight, even though we've been working towards it for months. This is still a big step. I was thinking about how all of it is going to happen.' He sipped his wine. 'What are you thinking?'

Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face. When he dropped his hand, he somehow looked more tired than before. 'I was thinking… that we cheated fate. The prophecy you told me about – if Camlann was to be my last battle, then how am I still alive? Mordred dying doesn't change the fact that I was meant to die as well.' His voice cracked, the pain over losing their friend finally bleeding through his iron control.

Merlin reached over to him, resting a hand on Arthur's shoulder, a silent support. Slowly, he said: 'I've been thinking about that too. I still think the prophecy came true – just not how we expected.'

He drew out a small wooden box from his pocket, setting it on the table in front of them.

Arthur frowned. 'What is that?'

Merlin merely opened the box and unfolded the scrap of parchment it contained. He read it over silently, ignoring Arthur's stare. Then he handed him the scrap, who read it aloud.

'Let loose the hounds of war. Let the dread fire of the last Priestess rain down from angry skies, for brother will turn on brother, friend will turn on friend, as the great horn sounds a cold dawn at Camlann. The prophets do not lie. Arthur will fight his final battle upon that mighty plain.' He looked up at Merlin. 'What?'

'That's the whole prophecy. Passed down through generations of druids and sorcerers, until it came to me. And I think every part of it came true.'

Arthur stared down at the parchment, scanning the words again. 'I don't understand.'

Merlin plucked the paper from his hands, spreading it on the table between them. '"Dread fire of the last Priestess" – that was Morgana's lightning. "Angry skies" – well, that could be a million things. The storm clouds that were already there, for example. Or the lightning I called down. Or even the rain and winds that the villagers summoned. "Brother turning on brother" – Mordred supposedly turned on us, then he turned on the Saxons. He was Morgana's brother, as he was mine, and he was our friend. Eira – the girl Gwaine saved – turned on him, too. And it was definitely a cold dawn, literally and metaphorically.'

Arthur tapped the prophecy. 'And what about this? "Arthur will fight his final battle upon that mighty plain." I'm still alive, so it can't have been my last battle.' When Merlin said nothing, he added, 'Can't it?'

'I think it might have been,' Merlin said slowly.

Arthur flinched. 'As in, I'm going still going to die soon?' In the flickering candlelight, the shadows under his eyes made him look a thousand years old, the defeated slant of his shoulders only emphasising that resemblance.

'No, no.' Merlin shook his head. 'I said that badly. I mean… maybe that was your last battle, because Albion's time has come. And Albion is meant to be a land of peace. Maybe it means… you don't have to fight anymore. Not on a battlefield. Your diplomatic skills might need some practice' – he flashed him a tiny smile – 'but you may never need to fight for your life again. Not like that.'

Arthur let out a long breath and sat back in his seat. 'That would be nice.'

'It would, wouldn't it.' Merlin poured them both some more wine, then pushed Arthur's cup towards him. 'What would you do with your time, if you didn't have to fight again?'

Arthur leaned his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes, thinking. After a minute, he opened them, meeting Merlin's gaze. 'I honestly don't know.'

'Nor do I.'

'Let's figure it out – together,' Arthur said.

Merlin nodded. 'I'd like that.'

They were quiet again for a while, drinking their wine until Merlin started to feel a little lightheaded. He wasn't drunk – far from it – but everything had that slightly dreamlike quality that made the world seem a little lighter, a little easier to deal with. He was about to say something to that effect, when Arthur took a sip of wine, tried to talk, and started coughing all at once. Merlin had to slap him on the back until Arthur waved him off, tears in his eyes. Merlin scanned the room. He noticed a jug of water and floated it and a new cup over to them. Arthur took the cup Merlin poured for him gladly, and after a few sips could speak again.

'Sorry,' Arthur spluttered. He took another drink and set the glass back down on the table. 'I just realised – I never actually asked you if you wanted to be a councillor. Not properly. Officially. I just assumed…' he trailed off.

Merlin touched Arthur's forearm. 'It's okay. You did ask – well, sort of. And don't you think I'd have argued if I didn't want it?'

Arthur raised an eyebrow. 'Even in front of the whole court?'

'Even in front of the whole court.'

Arthur's lips twitched into a smile. 'You might not be able to do that often.'

'What – tell the entire Council that you're wrong?'

'You certainly can't do that – not openly, at least.' Arthur swirled the wine in his goblet around thoughtfully. 'But I don't want you to lie, either. You could… tone it down, perhaps, in the Council, but tell me what you really think in private.'

Merlin's smile matched Arthur's own. 'Like I always have – even when I pretended not to?'

Arthur rolled his eyes. 'You were never very good at pretending not to have an opinion, and letting me know what it was. But you were usually right. Don't let it go to your head,' he warned, seeing Merlin's raised eyebrows. 'But you gave me more honest advice than any other member of the Council – except perhaps Gwaine. His filter was never the best.'

'I'll take that as a compliment.'

'It was meant as one.'

Arthur took another thoughtful mouthful of wine. 'Tell me something.'

'Hmm?''

'What did we do to Mordred? What was that place?'

Merlin set his goblet down, pushing it away from him. He hoped he could explain it right – at least, the bits he could actually tell Arthur.

'Eildon – the Hollow Hill. It was said that it hid a passage to the Faerie realm, and that it had extraordinary magic as a result.'

Arthur still looked confused, so Merlin tried again. 'Faeries are very long-lived. Many live for hundreds of years. Their life magic seeped into the Hill, which is why everything was so alive, so… green. But legend has it that its magic does not only work on plants. It can keep people alive for aeons, so long as they stay within the faerie lands.'

Arthur leaned closer. 'But that still doesn't explain Mordred.'

'I'm getting to that. The night before the battle, I had a vision of my father. You met him once – Balinor, the Dragonlord.'

Arthur stared at him, then sighed. 'Of course.'

'He told me to ride for the Hollow Hill. He reminded me of an old story my mother used to tell me, of faeries who could freeze someone in time. And then what Kilgarrah said helped me too.'

Arthur shook his head. 'You lost me. What did Kilgarrah say?'

'He called you the Once and Future King. I've heard that title before, but I didn't know what it meant. Now… I have an idea. I may be wrong, and in that case I don't want to burden you with it. But trust me: if I'm right, Mordred will be safe, in the faeries' care, for a long time.'

'You know, I hoped this would clear things up, Merlin. But you've somehow made everything even more confusing.'

Merlin smiled. 'I make things interesting, you mean. Why else would you keep me around?'

Arthur laughed. 'That you do.' He clapped him on the shoulder, which would have been a nice gesture, only he upset his own cup in doing so, spilling wine everywhere.

Merlin snorted, then started patting his pockets to find a cloth to clean up the mess. Finally he produced one, mopping up the liquid before it could reach the end of the table and drip onto the floor. Then he sat back down in his chair and brought out the object he'd remembered as he searched his pockets.

'I wanted to return this to you.' He held the object out – Arthur's mother's sigil, the one he'd been given only a few days before. 'Since I'm planning on you living a long life, I thought you might want this back.'

Arthur stared at it for a second, then reached out, closing Merlin's fingers back over it. 'No. It was a gift. I want you to keep it.'

'Are you sure?'

'Of course. You are as much my family as she was, so the sigil should stay with you.' Arthur's eyes bore into Merlin's. 'As long as you want it.'

Merlin held his gaze, slipping the token back into his pocket. 'I will treasure it always.'

He picked up the jug of wine, now mostly empty. As he poured them each another small glass, he thought over what Arthur had said.

Family. Arthur was his family.

And now he didn't have to worry about losing him. Not for a long, long time.

* * *

In the days that followed, life returned to something resembling normal.

Kara, the girl who had tried to enchant Mordred, was released. Merlin told her of Morgana's defeat and of Mordred's death. She said nothing when he told her, and when she was released – no longer able to return to Morgana's side – she left Camelot, walking into the woods, and never returned. Occasionally tales of stolen livestock and strange disturbances in the woods made their way back to Merlin, and though there was never any proof that it was her, something – a sixth sense, a magical link, perhaps – made him think it was her. She rarely caused more than a minor agitation; nothing bad enough for him to dispatch a force to bring her in, but when the reports stopped coming, Merlin had a strange feeling of relief – whatever had happened, either through her finding peace or a fight she couldn't win, she didn't have to suffer anymore.

Just as Merlin had predicted, Arthur dismissed first one, then two, manservants who were meant to take over from Merlin within a fortnight. So after two weeks of rest, with only Council duties to attend to – a task which was much less demanding than his old job – Merlin returned to work as Arthur's manservant, with a caveat that he would have regular days off. Arthur, surprisingly, agreed.

They quickly settled into a rhythm, with Merlin fulfilling most of his old duties. He stopped having to do Arthur's laundry, but ran more messages, and was entrusted with delicate and secretive matters, becoming something more akin to a personal aide than a manservant. Before Council meetings, he would return to his rooms to change into his council robes, which he hated. In a year or two, he hoped, he might be able to stop wearing them, but for now, as a warily tolerated presence, he decided it would be better to pick his battles where he knew it would be the most useful.

As for the meetings themselves, they realised quickly that Merlin could rarely say what he was actually thinking in front of the full Council. When it was just him, Arthur and the knights – and Gwen, of course – it wasn't a problem, but in full meetings, it wasn't practical to wait for the end for Merlin to tell Arthur what he thought in full, uncensored form. Instead, they developed a code: sometimes just a look or a gesture, for a simple _yes_ or _no_, but when Merlin was asked his opinion, certain words would mean a specific degree of agreement or opposition. His arguments were calm, measured, and well-presented, but they rarely said everything he wanted to. Arthur came to expect to receive an earful when Merlin came for his evening duties, especially when certain councillors favoured more restrictive policies. But just as often, Arthur would rant to him about the same policies, though often from a different angle. It was interesting to see how much their politics aligned, now that Merlin essentially had free reign to say whatever he wanted.

Arthur still occasionally threatened to throw him in the stocks, though.

A few years after Camlann, Gwen gave birth to a baby boy, whom they named Mordred. Gaius presided over the birth only a few months before he died. Merlin felt the loss keenly, withdrawing into himself and becoming sharper with his words when the pain of the loss hit him harder than normal. Arthur never called him on it, instead providing an ear when Merlin needed it. In time, Merlin managed to move past his grief, though it still ached. He somehow came through the ordeal closer to Arthur than ever. They had seen each other through the loss of their father-figures, and so understood each other's pain intimately. Gwen understood it too, and both men had helped her through her own losses, so evenings were often spent together, drinking or talking quietly.

Gwaine recovered quickly from his physical injuries, but the hidden scars that remained were much slower to heal. It took a long time before the haunted look left his eyes, and even this was largely thanks to Percival, who never left his side. When they died, Merlin buried them side by side in the Hollow Hill with Mordred.

Gwen died a year or so later. Merlin wanted to bury her with her friends, but Arthur wouldn't hear of it. That was the only time he ever indicated he suspected what Merlin had planned for him and his knights.

'Whatever fate awaits us – whatever you're not telling me – she does not have to bear that burden.'

Instead, she was honoured like her brother Elyan, and had the same resting place as Lancelot, with her funeral on the lake of Avalon, rather than on the island in the middle.

After the funeral, Arthur left without a word to either Merlin or his son. He was missing for a month, and when he returned, he seemed to have aged by ten years. His grief wore him down, but in time, he started to recover. He spent more and more time with his son, teaching and training him as much as he could. Merlin could only watch on sadly – still his manservant, still his councillor, still his friend – as they both knew his time was coming.

And come it did. Now almost sixty years old, his hair was grey, his face creased with wrinkles, but his eyes were still those of a boy of twenty, as he had been when he and Merlin had met. When they closed for the last time, with Merlin, Leon and Mordred still by his side, Merlin felt his world shake, then settle, now a colder place without his friend.

He left that night, bringing Arthur's body with him. He rode to Avalon, then commanded a boat to take them across. He laid Arthur to rest in the Hollow Hill, covered with his red cloak and surrounded by his friends, who looked as if they all slept peacefully. By some faerie magic, they were all slowly returning to how they looked in their prime, with Gwaine's hair growing darker and Percival's crow's feet disappearing. In time, Merlin knew, Arthur would once again look as he did when he was first crowned king, as his son now would be.

For his part, Merlin still looked the same – dark hair, boyish face, and mischievous smile – despite being almost sixty himself. He didn't know how much longer this magic would last, but for now he was grateful. It would make his next journey that much easier.

_Arthur is the Once and Future King. Take heart, for when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again. _The message Kilgarrah had passed on to him when he brought Mordred to the Hill, all those years ago. The secret he had kept from Arthur.

How long he would have to wait, he did not know. But wait he would, until he could see Arthur again.

Merlin travelled the country for a year, visiting the other kingdoms and beyond, once even crossing the sea to Gaul. He learned of many other forms of magic, seeking out druid camps and magical villages, growing more and more powerful as he did so, as he had throughout Arthur's reign. After that year, he returned to Camelot, to keep an eye on Mordred, now King of Camelot at twenty-five. Sir Leon was his main advisor; one more loyal or trustworthy could not be imagined. His sons, Sir Bedivere and Sir Kay, served Mordred as Knights of the Round Table, as close to the new king as Leon had been to Arthur. Merlin was welcomed back with open arms, as Arthur's most trusted advisor and closest friend, though he could not bring himself to stay more than a few months at a time, travelling and seeking information when he was not in Camelot. During one of his visits, Leon, now well over seventy, died, and Merlin laid him to rest with Arthur and his other knights.

Merlin shut the gap in the Hill, ensuring that no intrepid traveller could stumble across this sacred place unwittingly. He would return, he vowed to himself, to ensure his friends were safe.

He stayed with Mordred a few months longer. What he saw made him proud: Arthur's legacy lived on in his son, who had grown up with stories of what his father and his friends had faced, and of the knight who had given his life for Arthur's. Married and with two sons and a daughter, Mordred was a strong and just king, with Arthur's eyes and Gwen's smile. Merlin knew there was nothing else he could offer him, so bid Mordred farewell and rode off, away from Camelot.

For a thousand years, Merlin roamed the world. He continued to learn, to help, to drive forward change in the world. He was there at the signing of the Magna Carta; sailed across the great ocean with Magellan, guiding him where his maps failed; he travelled to Australia; and worked as a doctor in the two World Wars – always working, always moving on before people noticed that he did not age. But every few years, he made sure to return to the island where his friends were buried. On one occasion, he took the path at the back of the cave leading into the Faerie Realm, where he stayed for several years.

He waited for over a thousand years – a millennium spent alone, without a home, with only a dragon's promise that Arthur would return. He didn't know if Kilgarrah had found Aithusa, but he hoped so. He had never seen the young dragon again, but he hoped that somewhere, in some undiscovered place, far across the oceans, the dragon was still alive and safe. People hadn't gone on the hunt for dragons in centuries – most people didn't believe in them anymore – but he still hoped he was safe.

After all those years, Merlin had forgotten the exact blue of Arthur's eyes, the lilt of Gwaine's voice, the quiet wisdom in Leon's words, the kindness of Gwen's smile, the reassuring calm of Percival's presence. But he still had a piece of Camelot with him: Arthur's mother's sigil, which lived in his pocket, worn almost smooth from the countless times he had run his fingers over its surface. But every time he took it out, he remembered something he had forgotten; something that made his friends seem that little bit closer.

Until one day, in the early twenty-first century, he returned to Avalon. It was no longer a sacred place in the eyes of those who lived around it, in the land that was now called England. It was merely a lake, sparkling blue beside a busy country road. Merlin wandered along the road, sticking to the side of the hedge bordering the road as a lorry thundered past.

Reaching the top of the incline, he stopped, looking out over the lake to the hill that still hid his friends, as he always did when he walked this road, his bag slung over his shoulder. He could pass for any student hitchhiking cross-country, with his ratty jeans, red hoodie and messy hair. Still, he felt every one of his one thousand years as he gazed over at the island, the ache of his missing friends returning in full force. Somehow, even after all this time, those losses had never truly faded. He had made countless friends, and lost them all, but no other loss still hurt that badly.

The ache rose to an agonising point, pressing so hard into his chest that it hurt to breathe. Merlin sank onto a rock by the side of the road, just next to a gap in the hedge, letting him look out over the gleaming water. His bag slipped off his shoulder and landed on the ground with a muffled thump.

He choked back a sob. A thousand years, and nothing. Would Arthur's time ever come again? The Once and Future King. He had been king once – but the future was still empty. The only remnant of Camelot couldn't hold out hope for much longer. There was nothing else to do, no one to guide, no one to save – even those he could help would no longer listen. No one believed in magic anymore. This world of cynics was not the one he was born in. Even Uther's world had been more understandable than this.

There was nothing left for him here. Maybe it was time to lie down next to Arthur under the Hill and wait for his second coming with him. Nothing could be worse than this endless loneliness.

He pushed himself back onto his feet, picking up his bag from where it had fallen on the ground. He could do it. He just needed to find a boat.

He started walking down the road, making for the nearest village. But after only a few steps, he heard a whisper.

He whipped his head around, trying to figure out where it had come from. When it came again, he realised why it had sounded strange.

He hadn't heard it with his ears.

Heart pounding, he stood still, trying to make out the word that was whispered in his head a third time.

_Merlin?_

Merlin's breath caught. _Mordred?_

A smile travelled down the bond between them. _You waited._

_Of course I waited. Is… is everyone with you?_

_Gwaine says he's hungry. Percival and Leon are trying to decide if they want to hit him or not. And Arthur – _

Merlin's heart stopped.

_Arthur wants to know if you're coming._

Merlin started walking, the road he'd followed a thousand times in a thousand years, a journey that had seemed interminable but at this moment seemed worth every second. His walk became a jog, which became a run.

_I'm coming._

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**So this is the last chapter – there's a deleted scene I'll post in the next couple of days, but other than that, here concludes this story! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it (which was a lot). Whether you've been here since the start and stuck through my somewhat erratic posting schedule, or you've read it all in one go, thank you so much to everyone who's read it at all!**

**If you liked it, leave a review – I love hearing what you thought. If not, leave a review anyway – constructive criticism is much appreciated. **

**Love,**

**NewtPevensie xoxoxoxox**


	11. A Revelation

**This is a deleted scene from the first chapter of this story - Arthur disappears for hours after Merlin tells him he has magic. This fills in that gap.**

* * *

Arthur stumbled blindly through the woods, tripping over roots and fallen branches in his haste to get away from Merlin. He had to think, and he couldn't do that with Merlin's pleading eyes on him, willing him to understand.

Because Arthur wasn't sure if he could.

Merlin was his best friend. He knew him better than anyone else – maybe even better than Gwen. He was a lousy servant, always late, or clumsy, or just plain incompetent, but Arthur wouldn't dream of firing him. He valued Merlin's honest opinion too much – even if it meant foregoing a sensible manservant.

But to have kept something like this from him, and for so long… Arthur found himself wondering whether Merlin was actually the friend he thought he was. If he hadn't had any qualms about keeping his magic a secret, maybe he was hiding other things, too. Like an allegiance to Morgana.

Arthur felt a chill seep through him. That would make sense: Merlin had seemed to be in love with Morgana when he arrived in Camelot. What if that had developed into a loyalty made even more precious due to his proximity to Arthur? If that was the case, then Morgana had a very valuable mole in the heart of Camelot, which would have to be removed at once. He had to show his people that betrayal of Camelot would end in death.

He started walking back towards the campsite, intending to kill the sorcerer on the spot – he couldn't bear to think of him as Merlin, his Merlin – when a thought hardly more than a whisper, stopped him short.

Guinevere.

When Gwen's father had miraculously recovered from an illness plaguing Camelot, Gwen had been arrested for sorcery. At her trial, Merlin had claimed he was the sorcerer, and that he had cured her father. No one had believed him, and Arthur had removed him under the pretext that Merlin was in love with Gwen and would do anything to save her. Now he knew better. Merlin had been telling the truth. He had risked his life to save his friend's father, by using magic in the heart of Camelot. And then he had risked it further by announcing, in full view of the court, to Uther himself, that he had magic, to even have a chance of saving his friend.

If he was Morgana's man, why would he risk himself like that?

Other memories started unearthing themselves. How he somehow managed to get through most fights they wound up in with barely a scratch. Enemies found knocked out cold under fallen branches. Gaius telling him he was at the tavern, yet him never appearing hungover, or even smelling of alcohol, for that matter. The questioning by the Witchfinder, before the latter was found with magical items himself. The strange books Arthur sometimes glimpsed in Gaius's chambers – the ones with alchemical symbols that looked like a physician's notes, but could just as easily be magical markings. His recklessness that somehow always paid off – if he was a sorcerer, surely there wasn't much he needed to fear, if he could simply defend himself with magic.

The look on Merlin's face when he told him he had magic was engrained in his mind. Blue eyes pleading him to understand. A muscle twitching in his cheek like he was trying to control his emotions. His voice nevertheless cracking as he spoke.

The pure shock when he was told to stay at the campsite. The even faster flash of betrayal, of hurt, when he saw Arthur didn't trust him. No one could fake that.

If he were Morgana's spy, why would he tell him he had magic? Entreat him to allow magic back into Camelot, maybe, but outright tell him his darkest secret? That would be suicide.

That voice was back – the one that pointed out the things he didn't want to notice, usually in Merlin's voice. _He was giving you the choice, _it whispered. _He could have said to let magic back into Camelot, but instead he wanted to prove magic isn't all bad. If you were to trust anyone with magic, wouldn't it be him? By telling you, he was letting you decide his fate, and that of Camelot._

He really hated that voice sometimes.

It was joined by Guinevere's. _Mordred did his duty so you can do yours. _Did Merlin do the same?

Merlin had never said anything. He must have saved Camelot countless times in the last decade, risking himself every time, yet had never claimed credit, even going so far as to give others the credit he was due. All this power, and still he put up with Arthur's constant jabs, doing thankless tasks for someone he must see as a lazy, ungrateful clotpole (not that he'd hidden that particular opinion).

But he'd never complained. Not once. He'd never told Arthur that magic should be allowed into Camelot. Never argued that Morgana had good intentions in bringing back sorcery, even if her methods were evil. Never even spoken ill of Uther, despite his persecution of druids and sorcerers. He'd never put Arthur in danger, usually actively dissuading him from going anywhere near it, or joining him where he could not.

Merlin wasn't Morgana's spy, of that Arthur was sure. But the question remained: what of the Disir's demand?

He leaned back against a tree and ran his hand through his hair. He could see the faint beginnings of dawn on the horizon. He had been out all night. He started heading back to the campsite, to get some sleep before meeting with the Disir again.

He had made his choice.

* * *

**And that's the end of this story! Hope you enjoyed it, and please consider leaving a review to tell me what you thought!**

**The title is taken from the song 'There For You' by Martin Garrix and Troye Sivan.**

**Just in case you were interested, Eildon Hill is a real place (though not in the middle of Avalon) and is steeped in folklore, and is especially linked to fairies, for example in the ballad of Thomas the Rhymer, who supposedly travels under the hill and sees a group of knights sleeping around King Arthur as he waits for his time to return. **

**Love,**

**NewtPevensie xoxoxox**


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